Frostbite
by iryannaS
Summary: *CHAPTER 13 UP* It's the 54th Hunger Games and Bliss Morgan is chosen. Things get complicated when she falls for District 2's Damien Hunters and also when she finds her sister she's never met in a long time.
1. Bliss

_This is my first Hunger Games fanfic. Constructive criticism is always welcomed. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. It belongs to Suzanne Collins. I do, however, own some of the characters I made up. This is just a freakin' fanfic. The characters from District 11 belong to Fatiiboombah because we're working together.  
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_This story takes place 20 years __**before**__ Katniss Everdeen's time._

_**Note; I need help in deciding what type of outfit Bliss will be wearing for the opening ceremonies. District 9 majors in hunting and I'm clueless.**  
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**Frostbite **

Chapter One - Bliss

The rain has finally stopped but it leaves a soft drizzle outside, giving the scenery a fuzzy look. The cold air creeps in my room through the open window but I stay put, hugging my knees. It's still dark outside. I couldn't sleep at all. Of course I can't; it's the day of the Reaping.

My bed shakes slightly as Silver, my smoky-grey-furred cat, jumps onto my bed. I give him a scratch behind the ear and sigh. I don't know how long I've been sitting here just staring at nothingness, but the first rays of sunlight entering the room becomes my alarm. I immediately get up, wash myself and change. As I walk past my mother's bedroom, its door open to a creak, I see that she is still sleeping, her face hidden under her blanket.

My poor, poor mother. I know she tries her best not to look broken down in front of me but I can see past all her weak smiles and acts. She's lost so much in such little time. When I was seven, my mother was pregnant with a baby boy. Finally, a son for my father, but a week later she had a miscarriage and could no longer get pregnant. During that time, I still had Blair, my older sister who was then fourteen, for comfort. My mother recovered from her loss in a matter of three weeks. But little did we know, the pain would not end there.

You see, the district I live in – District 9 – majors in hunting but the hunting grounds are limited. My father always woke up early to hunt for game on the outside forests. One day, a few weeks after my eighth birthday, my father was killed by a poisonous snake. He entered the outside forest and could not call for help. Because trespassing is illegal, my family did not receive a medal of valor for his death.

My mother couldn't stop crying. She would not leave her bed for weeks and whenever I would enter the room to bring her food, I could always see her swollen eyes gazing out the window numbly. She wouldn't say anything to me or Blair and we were getting worried. The food was decreasing and the money we received from the Capitol that would last for a month was beginning to lessen. Our father was the worker in our family. Living in one of the lower middle districts, it wasn't hard to support the four of us.

Blair became the substitute. She wasn't a good hunter, so she decided to sell our old clothes and trinkets or anything she could find in our house. It was hard for her, I knew, but what could I have done? I was only eight then, and she was fifteen. As a last resort, she signed up for tesserae. It was something my parents both didn't allow any of us to do. But my mother did nothing to stop my sister from signing up; she just lay in her bed, not knowing what else to do.

One night, Blair tried to feed my mother supper from the tesserae she got and everything turned bad. I still remember it as if it was yesterday. She forced my mother up and into the dining room to eat. She fed my mother one spoon full to another and then, after what seemed like forever, my mother spoke-

"Where did you get this food from?"

Her voice came out as a whisper but I could hear it clear enough.

Blair hesitated. "Tesserae, mother,"

My mother's expression turned from a numb-confused look to anger and shock. Before I realized what had happened, her hand went flying towards Blair's face, leaving a red mark on her ivory skin. We both stared at our mother in disbelief, Blair holding a palm to her cheek.

"Why, Blair?!" my mother hissed. "Your father and I have told you time and time again; never sign up for tesserae! How could you disobey us?!"

And that did it; Blair snapped. I've never seen her get angry before. She was always so patient and understanding. She stood up, smashing the bowl into the wall. "How dare you! While you were laying in bad, grieving, I was the one who sought food for us! I was the one who took care of us! You have no right, mother… no right!"

She stormed out of the room… and I never saw her again after that. Blair's outburst was a wake up call for my mother – and for me. At the age of eight, I started learning how to hunt. My mother grew vegetables and fruits in the backyard to sell. We didn't hear from Blair for two years until the Peacekeepers came one day in the middle of autumn. They told us that they've captured her and that she was taken to the Capitol to become an Avox. This piece of news surprised us. The Peacekeepers then told my mother to act like Blair Morgan was never her daughter – to disown her. They said Avoxes don't deserve to have a family and this was a punishment. It was cruel, and at the age of eight, I already started hating the Capitol. My mother, whether she liked it or not, had to agree with the Peacekeepers and we never spoke about Blair again. But one of the wishes before I die is to just see my sister again.

The streets of District 9 are deserted. I, Bliss Morgan, am the only one outside. The reaping isn't until two. Everything is silent except for my footsteps and the faint beating of my heart. Not even the birds are out. I am eighteen and this is my last year of eligibility for the reaping. I've made it through six years without my name being called. All I can say is that I'm lucky and if I get it through this year's reaping, I'll be free. I won't have to have a worrying feeling every year when reaping day comes near.

"Bliss!" a voice calls out somewhere to my right.

I don't need to turn my head to know who it is; Cadence Dane, my best friend who I've known ever since I was young. She doesn't hunt for a living like I do, that's her father and brother's job. We're both eighteen, so if we both get through the reaping, we'll both free together.

"How are you?" she asks.

I usually never acknowledge questions like "how are you" but there was something in her voice that makes me turn. A look of cheer is plastered across her face. I stare at her in shock.

"Do you know what today is?" I ask her cautiously.

She nods her head, her long blond curls bouncing slightly. "It's the day of the reaping,"

Now I _really _need to check her sanity. "I've never seen anyone excited as you,"

"Bliss, this is our last year. We'll be free. We've escaped death for six years. What are the chances that _our _names will be the ones to come up?"

I roll my eyes. "Zero; because there can only be _one_ name from the girls' side."

She looks at me solemnly now, her bright blue eyes piercing into my dull green ones. "There are only twenty-one slips with our names out of _thousands_. We never once signed up for tesserae and, Bliss, come on, _what are the chances_?"

I nod, but just to shut her up so we can change to another subject. "Right, you're right."

Cadence shouldn't really be too confident. No one knows what could happen. Last year, a twelve-year-old boy got chosen. There was an uproar. Everyone knew it wasn't fair – that a twelve-year-old who only had one slip of his name was to become dead meat. The boy didn't survive; he died a day after being released into the arena, brutally killed by a career tribute from District 2.

Silence follows us as we continue walking towards the city center. As I expected, it is the only place where there's people walking around here and there. Cadence and I buy some food for the feast we're sure to have after the reaping. We only buy food below our budget; we're not rich after all. Just two loaves of bread, some berries and meat. Whenever I go out to buy food, I always try to imagine how the people from the upper districts spend their money. Undoubtedly wasting most of their money on dessert. I've been to the Capitol once when I was four during the holidays with my family for a visit. They had this drink called "hot chocolate" which I've only tasted once in my life. The food there was as extravagant as the buildings there. We ate little, though, because everything was so much more expensive than the usual market in District 9.

In the midst of the crowd I see Jake Parker, a boy who hunts with me. We're not close; we don't know each other very well, but we can still call each other friends. He's a year younger than me, though. He's fairly good-looking; wavy brown hair, hazel eyes, dark skin, tall. He makes his way to me, carrying part of a deer leg with him.

"You went hunting?" I ask.

He shrugs. "You know a last minute thing. Just in case… Good luck for the Hunger Games."

I nod my head. "Yeah, you too,"

Cadence, who was busy buying some vegetables, comes over to me just as Jake leaves. "I can't believe it's hard to even buy some basil now."

"So, I'll see you later, then?" I say, putting all my food into the sling bag I'm carrying.

"Just search for a girl wearing a bright yellow dress,"

"And I'll be wearing my usual white," I call out as I walk away.

It's usual for everyone to dress up nice for the reaping because if they get chosen, the cameras would be on them and they always felt they needed to look nice when going to the Capitol. I, personally, have never cared for clothes but dress up anyway so the paranoid Peacekeepers won't think I'm being _too _rebellious. I roll my eyes.

When I reach home, I see my mother is wide awake and has prepared breakfast for us both on the table. Porridge. We greet each other a good morning, I put the food in the kitchen and start eating with her. It's silent as always. Well, what can you expect when you've lost your husband and eldest child and you're only left with one child? I sigh. I always think my mother wishes for a son, so her grandchildren will carry the family name.

Blaze. That was the name my parents had been planning to name their son if my mother hadn't had a miscarriage. I wonder why they chose the letter 'B'. 'Bl', actually; Blair, Bliss, Blaze – and all with five letters. I burst out laughing but immediately keep quite after receiving a 'look' from my mother.

"Your last year, huh?" she says silently, picking at her porridge.

I look up. "Uh, yeah. You know, Cadence is really confident that our names won't be called out."

"What, you think you will?"

I shrug. "I don't know, mom. But I promise, like I promised when I was twelve, that if I ever get chosen I'll fight and won't ever give up. I'll win. I'll come home for you. You can trust me on that."

"Bliss, I… have your clothes ready for you. Get changed, now."

I furrow my eyebrows. It was as if she wanted to say something else. I know it. I don't push the matter further, though, and I run to my room to get changed. On my bed lays a long, sleeveless white dress which has faint patterns on the hem. This was my mother's dress. I usually just borrow her old reaping clothes as to avoid wasting money. I pull the dress on, making sure to be careful and stand in front of a mirror. I look like my mother when I'm wearing her reaping clothes, as many have told me. I suppose I do look like her. We share the same eyes, same black hair that falls past our shoulders, and same nose. I leave my hair loose but I comb my fringe, which falls just past my eyebrows, to the side.

At half-past-one, we head for the square where the reaping usually takes place. As I expected, there are cameras from every angle of the square. I hate even the cameras because they remind of the Capitol, always watching people, and it fills me with hatred. I sign in and make my way towards the group of eighteen-year-olds at the front. As I was told, I search for "a girl wearing a bright yellow dress". It isn't hard to find Cadence. Her dress stands out from everyone else's. She turns around and I smile. She has her thick curls tied up in a messy bun.

"Bliss," she greets, "nice dress. Too bad, though."

"What?" I frown.

"You only wear pretty clothes during the reaping. After this, you'll only be wearing those hunting clothes of yours."

I sigh. Her confidence irritates me but it brings me a bit of hope. "Thanks, Cadence."

I look over to the boys' side and I spot a few of the boys I hunt with. They're busy fidgeting or otherwise trying to look "cool". I spot Jake and we nod to each other. I turn my head and I see my mother standing around the perimeter. We catch each other's eyes and exchange smiles and nods. I turn back to the stage and my eyes are locked with the big glass ball on the girls' side. The only thing I can think of then is, "my name is in there, my name is in there, my name is in there".

Behind the glass balls are three people seated on chairs. From the right, it's the mayor of District 9, Mayor Humphrey, who is a short, stocky man, who sweats a lot; next to him is Ginger Von Dane, District 9's escort from the Capitol with her long green hair falling to her waist and bright yellow suit. I almost laugh, thinking it's the same shade as Cadence's dress. The one next to Ginger is Isabelle Woodward, District 9 tributes' mentor and also last victor. Her long flaming red locks of hair are tied into a neat, tight bun and she is wearing a long green dress. She looks so beautiful and really stands out.

The mayor steps up to the podium and begins to talk. It's the same speech every year. It starts with the history of Panem, the country we live in, the rules of the Hunger Games then the list of past victors of District 9. It's a fairly long list, but way shorter than the upper district's list. He then introduces Ginger Von Dane of to the stage.

Ugh. How I hate that woman so much. I don't listen to her as she does her speech. It's always an echo of the mayor's speech and it's useless to hear anyways.

"Well now," she says after finally finishing her speech, "let's start with the lovely ladies."

My hand squeezes Cadence's hand but my eyes search for my mother. I don't see her anywhere and quickly turn back towards Ginger, who is now pulling out a paper slip. From the corner of my eye, I can see Cadence grinning.

No Cadence, please. Don't be so confident. Please.

"Bliss Morgan!"

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**Well, there you go. As I said before, I need help in deciding what type of outfit Bliss will wear. Any suggestions please tell me. ^_^**


	2. Final Words

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. It belongs to Suzanne Collins. I do, however, own some of the characters I made up. This is just a freakin' fanfic._

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**Frostbite **

Chapter Two – Final Words

No. No. No, please, no. Not me.

I hear Cadence's gasp loud in my ear. Her grin is now replaced with a shocked, petite 'o'. She's shaking my shoulder, muttering something to me but I can't hear it. I won't hear it.

Not me. This is my last year. My _last year_. I'm supposed to be free. I'm supposed to be done with this.

"No," I manage to choke out. I finally gain control of myself and I start shaking my head.

"The Peacekeepers are coming," I finally hear Cadence's hasty mutters as she continues shaking my shoulder as hard as she can.

My head snaps up and I see two men slowly making their way to me, thinking that I don't want to go, to force me up there. How long have I been standing, frozen in disbelief? Long enough to make the Peacekeepers think I'm refusing to go up, I guess. Well, I really _don't_ want to go but I don't want to cause any trouble. I give Cadence a quick hug before making my way up to the stage.

"Well, now, welcome Miss Morgan!" says Ginger, clapping her hands. "Come on, now, let's give our young tribute a row of applause."

I swear to God I will slap that woman. Standing so close to Ginger Von Dane right now, it makes me so angry. I feel like I could just cry, but no. I won't make myself look like a weakling. I won't humiliate myself in front of Cadence, my mother – my mother!

My eyes hastily search through the people lining the perimeter and finally, finally, I found her. She's looking away from me and even from where I'm standing I can see her tears falling.

Please, look at me. Mom, I love you.

My poor, poor mother. If I die, she'll be left childless and who'll be able to take care of her? Who is going to bring food to her? Who?!

A lump in my throat. That's bad. I won't cry, I won't cry, I won't cry.

"Now, let's move on to the young men," says Ginger, walking past me towards the boys' glass ball. She pulls out a paper slip and says, "Donovan Parker!"

I close my eyes. Good. It's someone I don't know. It's not one of the boys who hunt with me, not Cadence's brother, not anyone from my class. No wait – Donovan Parker? _Parker_? It couldn't be…

I look towards the line of seventeen-year-old boys and I spot Jake easily. He's looking at me with intense eyes. I don't know if he's angry, worried or just tensed. But I think I know what's flashing through his mind; I might kill his brother or he might kill me.

Well, I doubt it's the second one. Why would Jake care about me? He doesn't even know me that well. Yeah, sure, maybe we usually meet in the woods to hunt but that's just it.

"Any volunteers?"

Don't. Please, don't. If Jake volunteers then we would have to kill each other. As I said before, we're not close but _still _it'll be hard. Ugh. I hate ironies.

Silence. No one steps forward, not even Jake. Does he know? Does he understand how I would feel if he volunteers? Does he know how hard it will be? But Donovan is his own brother…

I turn to look at the boy next to me. He looks young. Younger than Jake. I would guess about fourteen or fifteen. This makes me panic. I can't kill a boy younger than me. A boy who's related to my friend – err, well a friend who isn't close but –

"No? Well, then it's settled!"

Sighing in relief, I close my eyes and let my shoulders droop. This is not the time to relax. There shouldn't _be _a time to relax, but I can't help but feel relieved as two thoughts come across my mind; one, I wouldn't have to kill Jake or Jake wouldn't have to kill me and two, I wouldn't have to kill his brother either because I'm sure someone else will try to.

The mayor then starts the long Treaty of Treason. I force my eyes open and the first ones that catch me are Jake's. His eyes are angry, but not accusing. I suppose he knows this isn't my fault, that his brother is chosen. We both hold each other's gazes for a while, my confused eyes into his angry ones.

I force my eyes away from his turn to my mother. Again, her face is turned away and stained with pouring tears. I guess I'll have to wait to talk to her. I know that they let the tributes say goodbye to their family and friends before leaving. Slowly, I turn towards Cadence. Her eyes hold the mixture of sadness, disappointment, disbelief and grief. I try to comfort her with a small smile but that just makes her start to cry.

I look down at my feet. This is my last year. I shouldn't be on the stage right now. I shouldn't be a tribute. The odds are against me for the reaping, but I hope they'll work with me during the Hunger Games.

The mayor finally finishes the Treaty of Treason and Donovan and I have to shake hands. It isn't really an actual, firm shake. Our palms just touched and that is it. We turn back to sing the anthem, but I'm only mouthing the words. My mind wanders somewhere else.

How long will I be able to last? I've been watching the Hunger Games on television for a long time now and I know what to do when I reach the Cornucopia; run. I suppose I'm a fast runner. My body is just the right size for speed. But even if I can't run, I'll climb. I climb trees all the time while hunting, so I get a better shot at game. Speaking of "shots", what weapon will I manage to take from the Cornucopia if I have time? I usually hunt with a bow and arrow, but I'm flexible; I sometimes use blades or daggers.

As soon as the anthem stops, two Peacekeepers are standing both side of me and another pair with Donovan. We're ushered into the Justice Building and then separated. I'm left alone in a room full of velvet all by myself. It's the grandest thing I've ever been in (if you don't count the Capitol) but this could not distract me.

A hundred things are going through my mind. I find myself pacing up and down, up and down, thinking about what I'm going to say to my mother and Cadence in the next hour. Not many people are going to say goodbye to me; I don't have much friends and my mother is the only family member I have left. I try sitting myself down on the sofa but only to find myself back up again.

The doors burst open and my mother comes rushing in, hands outstretched to hug me and face stained with fresh tears. I run to her arms and hug her hard. I never want to let go. I never want to _go_.

She pulls away from the hug and places her palm on my cheek. "Bliss, I need you to be strong. I need you to fight. Don't give up. Please, don't ever give up."

"Mom, I promised you ever since my first reaping. I'll fight. I'll _win_! I'll come home!"

But now, those words are meaningless. Even I know I can't win. I know I'll fight, but there's no guarantee I'll succeed. I won't come home. My mother will be alone. She'll die out of hunger.

I clutch her hands in panic. "Stay alive, please. If I die, or whatever it is you'll watch, please, just stay alive! _You _don't give up! _You _keep fighting!"

"A mother never wants to outlive her child,"

I shake my head. "I have some extra money I've been saving. They're hidden behind my closet. It's not much, but it'll buy you food for a month. Buy a goat; make money by selling the cheese or milk. Do _anything _to feed yourself."

But then she said something unpredictable. "I wish Blair was here."

Blair. My mother hasn't once opened her mouth about Blair ever since that autumn's day. When I kept trying to talk about her, she'd change the subject immediately and I became used to keeping quiet about it. And now, I almost forgot Blair was ever alive.

"Blair," she continues, "would've known what to say now. She would be doing a better job at comforting you than me. I just know it. She's taken care of you better than I have."

And after that, we spent our time talking about Blair. About how we both miss her, about the memories when she was young, about everything. My mother admits she was wrong for hitting Blair the night she ran away. She says she'd give anything to turn back time.

"She would have volunteered in your place, Bliss, because she loves you so much. She could never see her little sister fight to death."

I shake my head. "I wouldn't have wanted her to."

I look at my feet and think. What if Blair really was here? What if she really did volunteer in my place? Well, that's impossible. She's twenty-five now; she's way past eligibility. But say she was the same age as me, and if she volunteered, I can imagine the scene being that my mother and I saying goodbye to her.

"You didn't have to volunteer, you fool," I would have said to her.

"I love you, Bliss. I won't lose you," I imagine her saying, because that's just the way she was. Blair was always so, so protective of me when I was young.

"And you think I'd lose _you_?!"

"I love you so much, Bliss. Come home to me," my mother whispers, pulling me into a hug.

I nod. "I love you, too, mom."

As soon as we said those words, the doors burst open and the Peacekeepers are saying that the time is up and telling my mother to leave. I start to panic, my heart beating as fast as ever. I clutch her hand tightly and hug her as hard as I can. It reminds me of when I was in kindergarten.

"Please don't go, mom. I love you, please don't go!" I cry out, but unlike when I was in kindergarten, I hold my tears back. I keep repeating, "Don't go, don't go, don't go" over and over again while she keeps reminding me that she loves me. The Peacekeepers pull as apart, I try holding on to her hand but her hand slips from mine and she is dragged out of the room. The doors close, leaving me in silence.

Don't cry, don't cry, Bliss. Please, don't cry.

I sit myself back on the sofa, hands clutched on both sides of my shivering body. I need to get myself together. I can't break down. Not now.

The doors open again and I stand up to hug Cadence. She's not crying but I can tell by the water streaks on her face, she was. We both sit down on the sofa, clutching each other's hands as tightly as we can.

"I can't believe it," Cadence whispers, her voice cracking. "This was your last year."

"I know," I reply, my voice as cold as ever. There's no use repeating it again. It won't bring me back home

"I'm so sorry, Bliss. I couldn't volunteer. I just didn't have the guts."

"Cadence, I didn't want you to volunteer. You're my best friend and I would never ask that of you. Please, just take care of my mother for me. I won't be there anymore. She's sick, Cady."

"I don't want you to go. This isn't fair!"

"This is as fair as it's ever going to get."

Something flashes in her eyes. I know she wants to shout all types of bad things about the Capitol, like she always does when we're by ourselves, but not here where the Peacekeepers are probably eavesdropping. She hates the Capitol. I hate the Capitol. We both blame them for everything, and we're right to do so.

"I know this might be a lot to ask of you," she whispers, "but can you please come home? Can you win, please, for your mother, for me, for everyone that loves you?"

Never make promises you can't keep, Bliss.

"I'll try." I say.

"Don't eat the berries there."

"What? Why?"

"Red berries – they're poisonous. I've seen so many tributes fall for the berries and just die as soon as they swallow them. There's always poisonous berries may it be in the desert or the forest or some type of wasteland – just don't eat the berries."

"Yeah, thanks."

"And, Bliss, don't be afraid to kill anyone."

I blink, surprised.

"We won't think of you as a monster for killing anyone. We understand you have to. We know you need to."

"I… I don't know what to say. Cadence, I'm going to miss you so much. And if I die-"

"No!" she snaps. "You are _not _going to die, Bliss Morgan. You're going to live! You're going to come back and live an easier live in the Victor's Village. You'll be District 9's new victor."

"Be realistic, Cadence," I say sadly. "To be honest, I can promise I'll try my hardest but I can't promise you I'll win. Come on, what are the chances? The career tributes have trained all their lives for this. There will be stronger tributes. Tributes who know everything there is to know about survival and… killing. You know I don't stand a chance, even I do."

"Bliss, I have so much faith in you. It's time you have faith in yourself."

The door opens and again, the Peacekeepers say that time is up and are telling Cadence to leave the room. She stands up and places something in my palms. "I'll need this back. So you'll have to come back home and give it to me. I love you and I'll miss you."

"I love you, Cadence,"

I watch as she walks out of the room and the doors close. I sit back down on the sofa and open my hand to reveal a long strip of blue ribbon. At first, I'm confused. Why does Cadence need this back? It's just an ordinary ribbon. But then do I pick it up and observe it in the light do I really understand why. In the light, the ribbon casts off some sort of glittery glow and on the ribbon are beautiful, intricate designs.

"I'll try," I whisper, tying the ribbon around my wrist since there's no pocket on my dress.

That's it. No one else is going to come. But I find I'm wrong when the door opens again and in comes Jake Parker. I stand up immediately, shocked to find him here. He must have just gotten back from saying goodbye to his brother. We stand in silence, just facing each other.

I bite my lip and say, "Um,"

Just "um" and he starts pacing. He stomps his foot at every step and rubs his forehead so hard I think his skin might peel off. His eyes show a glint of controversial emotions waging inside and I just stand there and wait.

"Why did you come here?" I ask silently.

He stops pacing and glares at me. "I came here to ask if you could take care of my brother, but then I realized you were probably planning to kill him. So now, I'm trying to think if I should beg you _not _to kill him."

I stare at him in disbelief. Before I could even utter a single word, he storms out, leaving me to feel completely confused and shocked.

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**I know I just posted the first chapter like twenty minutes ago, but who cares?**


	3. Alone

**Frostbite **

Chapter Three - Alone

One of the Peacekeepers pokes his head inside. "Five more minutes before we head to the train station. Fix yourself up, pull yourself together, prepare yourself," he says, his voice as rough as sandpaper, before closing the door.

I touch my face, making sure I'm not crying. I'm not going to go out looking like a weakling, just as I hadn't let myself look like one during the Reaping. All I can do now is to try to distract myself; I can't let my mind wander. I can't let myself _think_ because if I do, I'm sure I'll be thinking about home and I know I'll start crying.

Not now, Bliss. Not now.

I can't help but to pace up and down again, running my fingers through my hair again and again until I pull some out. The five minutes feels a little bit too long for me. Why couldn't it feel like this when I was saying goodbye to my mother and Cadence? Why did our goodbyes have to feel so short? Why?! Why did I have to get chosen to become a tribute? Why was it my name on the paper slip? Why did the Capitol have to do this every year, torture kids? Why are they so unfair?! Why don't they care?! WHY?!

I stop, catching myself. My hands are clutching both sides of my body as I try to gasp for air. All of this nerves, anger, everything I've been bottling up inside has finally gotten to me. I fall on my knees, my mouth opening wide as I try to fill my dry lungs with air. My fingers pull the fur on the carpet underneath me. I think I might just die before the Games even start.

Get up, Bliss. I'm not going to die now. This is just a moment of weakness. Get up!

I obey that voice inside my head and push myself from the floor. It's still hard to breathe but I'm not gasping. I hold my breath to clear my mind, let myself think straight, even though my lungs are aching. Finally, I suck in a breath of air slowly, carefully and find myself breathing normally again.

It was just a breakdown. It'll never happen again, that voice says.

I realize I'm sweating bullets, my heart beats wildly, my finger tips and the tips of me toes feel numb for some reason. I have just enough time wipe away the sweat from my face and fix my hair before the Peacekeepers come in and take me away.

I enter a car, but Donovan isn't here. The door slams shut right beside me and I can hear the locks working. I don't care. I'm not foolish to try to escape. I've never seen a tribute try to run away before, and I'm not going to be the first… because I know I'll surely be the last. I wonder what the Capitol would do if I escaped? Punish my mother, of course.

The ride to the train station feels long in this unending silence. This silence makes me feel so alone, like I have no one anymore. Like I'm on my own now – well, technically, I _am _on my own from here until the Games. I doubt Donovan would try to comfort me, like a friend would do, because he doesn't even know who I am and I only know him as 'the-guy-I-hunt-with's brother. Even I barely know Jake.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat remembering how Jake acted at the Justice Building. He came there to ask me to take care of Donovan and when he realized it was the Hunger Games after all, he tried to think if he should beg me to spare Donovan's life. I can't picture myself killing Donovan – heck, I can't picture myself killing anyone. He wanted to _beg_ to me as if I'm a ruthless, cold-hearted person. Do I look like someone so cold-hearted? I admit, I'm bitter at times, but I'm not that type of person. Besides, I'm only hoping someone else will kill Donovan – no that I want him to die. If I happen to bump into him in the arena, well, we'll see…

The car finally comes to a halt. I hear the 'cluck' as the doors unlock and the Peacekeepers come to escort me to the train. Just as I had expected, the cameras are everywhere. I look to my right and see my mother, Cadence along with her family standing at the side, giving me sad smiles. I return their smiles half-heartedly. I appreciate Cadence's family coming; it seems that if my mother and Cadence are the only to show up, it'd look like no one cares for me. I wave at their direction, showing the ribbon tied to my arm to Cadence.

"Come home and bright it back," she mouths.

Home. How can I be sure that I will come back? How can _they _be so sure?

I look away, my eyes watering. I turn to my left and see Donovan, his head down. I try to catch his eye but they're glued to the floor. I can't tell if he's crying or not. Sighing, I try to catch a glimpse of the screen, a glimpse of me. I look like I'm on the verge of tears and immediately, like Donovan, I put my head down.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

As soon as we enter the train, the door thankfully slams shut and I feel easy to know there are no more cameras. We stand at the hallway in awkward silence, not knowing what to do or where to go. Light footsteps break the silence and I see Ginger Von Dane coming around the corner. Ugh, she has that smile on again.

"Hello there Mr. Parker and Miss Morgan!" she says, her voice high-pitched. "I hope you don't mind if I call you by your first names?"

Yes, I do mind actually. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Donovan, your room is to the left of the hall – the first door on your right. And, Bliss, your room is to the right, the first door to you right. Wash yourself, change your clothes and then I'll pick you up for supper."

I can't help but twitch slightly when she said my name. The _way _she said my name. Her 's' is so sharp, it was like a snake was saying my name. _Blissss…_

I slowly make my way to my room. It's bigger than my living room at home, but I don't feel impressed or excited; I still feel that aching inside of me after saying goodbye to my mother and Cadence. I still feel that longing to be back home. I still feel that disappointment in getting chosen. _My last year…_

All I do for the next ten minutes is just sit on my bed, my face buried in my trembling hands as I try to calm myself. If this is worst, I wonder how I'll be feeling tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. Will I break down?

I finally get a hold of myself. Slowly, carefully, I untie the ribbon around my arm and take off my mother's dress. It's her prettiest one. Of course, almost all of the eighteen-year-olds wear their best dresses on their last Reaping. I place the dress on my bed, the ribbon on top of it and I pull on a robe. I make my way, barefoot, to the bathroom. It's definitely larger than my room back at home but again, I don't feel awed.

The shower is so complicated. I have used a shower, of course. At home, our shower is the old type, the ones people use back in the twenty-first century. It still works well, though, but sometimes the water keeps changing from cold to hot and back to cold at random times. It takes me five minutes to figure out how to work this one and when I do, I just sit under the water; my eyes watching the water go down the drain.

I don't know how long I've been sitting on the floor, doing nothing, until Ginger knocks on my door. "Dear, supper is ready."

"I'll be right out!" I say.

"Well, hurry up, dear, Donovan and Isabelle are waiting."

Hold on, you psychotic clown! I hear Ginger leaving the room and I turn off the shower. I pull my robe back on and head straight to the closet to find something decent to wear. The closet is humongous – too bad I'm not in the 'awed' mood today. Most of the clothes are Capitol clothes; odd neon bright dresses, pants with holes in them, blouses with a bit too much glitter – I don't think I'll ever find anything decent to wear. I rummage around for awhile, I know I'm getting later because of this, but I finally found a pair of jeans and a simple green hooded shirt.

There's a knock on the door again and I hear Ginger's voice. I ignore her and brush my hair slowly, out of spite. I let my fringe fall back over my forehead. Before leaving the room, I tie Cadence's ribbon on my arm again. Feeling satisfied, I open the door only to see a frowning Ginger. Well, good. As long as she doesn't have that smile on anymore…

"Well, it's about time!" Isabelle Woodward exclaims as soon as I step into the dining room. "We were waiting for you."

"Sorry," I mutter as I sit down next to Donovan.

He doesn't acknowledge me. He doesn't even look at me. Well, I see we're probably not going to be friends. I guess I see his point – what's the use of friends when you're going to kill them anyway? But he's still four years younger than me, though. If I were the young one, I'd be trying to make an alliance already. But I guess he just thinks girls are weak.

I missed the appetizers so now I just jump to the main course. The food is scrumptious; roasted lamb, and to balance the spicy peppery flavor is sweet cherry gravy poured in a zigzag pattern over the meat.

Okay, maybe now I'm a bit impressed. I've never had food like this before, and not to mention the amount I'm getting. Living in the nicer areas of District 9, I do usually sleep with a full stomach. I've only gone starving a few times after my father died when my mother was in her zombie state. But this, this is more than I usually eat by ten times!

"You have lovely eyes, Bliss," says Isabelle.

I look up, staring at her suspiciously. I mutter a silent 'thank you' and look back down at my food. I wonder what's she's planning. I remember Isabelle Woodward five years ago, when she was chosen to become District 9's tribute. She was the prettiest out of all the eighteen-year-olds there. If it was up to me, I'd call her a disgrace to District 9 because during the Games, she didn't really fight. She _degraded _herself, actually. Her strategy was to flirt with all the stronger boys in there and persuade them to keep her. She sickened me the way she did all those things. When it came down to a handful of people, she used her good looks again and after awhile when there were three people left in the game, she ran away and hid. The other tribute left standing, a boy from District 1, was already badly injured from his battle with the other tribute. Isabelle was well hidden and even though the Gamekeepers did everything they could to drive her back to the District 1 boy, she managed to dodge it. At last, the boy died because of his injury. I'm sure if he had a chance to catch Isabelle, he'd be the winner.

I can't help but wonder if she's planning to teach me to use that strategy. I can feel her eyes boring into me, examining me, examining what my best features are, I suppose. Five years ago, her best feature was her looks and body and during the interviews, she wore as little as she could.

Degrading, humiliating.

An Avox boy comes and takes the dishes away while another replaces them with plates of dessert. It's something called chocolate mouse. Probably Capitol dessert, I think. I've never seen it before in District 9. I take the first bite timidly. The flavors explode my mouth. I've never tasted anything like this. It feels soft and creamy but chewy at the same time.

Needless to say, once I've finished my dessert, I feel stuffed and terribly full. I've been full before, but not _this _full, until my belly feels like it might just burst or until I feel like I might not be able to make my food stay in.

"Well, is everyone done eating?" asks Ginger. She doesn't need an answer, though. "Follow me and we'll watch the replays of the Reaping."


	4. The Tributes

**Frostbite **

Chapter Four – The Tributes

We enter another compartment where we're to watch the recap of the Reaping. Again, I sit next to Donovan but he still doesn't even look at me. Okay, now I feel he's just being rude. Does it hurt to make a small eye-contact with your fellow tribute? Ginger and Isabelle sit on a different sofa next to us. Using a small, silver remote, Ginger turns the screen on in front of us.

The Capitol seal flashes up and then disappears, fading into the scene of District 1's square where the Reaping was held. The usual speeches are made but I ignore them. Why do we need to watch this anyway? I turn my head to Donovan, lowering my voice so Ginger and Isabelle won't notice, I say, "Hi,"

I see his eyes shift toward me then shift back to the screen. His lips are sealed, not a sound peeps out.

I furrow my eyebrows. What's wrong with him? I was trying to be nice, to talk to him – and maybe even comfort him if he feels scared. But I guess he really doesn't want anything to do with me. Fine, maybe I don't want anything to do with him either. I turn my head back to the screen just as Ginger casts a glance over in our direction.

After the speeches are finished, District 1's escort, Luca Ardorve, walks up to the boys' glass ball to pick a name. He looks somewhat like Ginger, with the green hair and odd clothes and all, but his lips are painted a bright blue and his eyelids are of orange. I suppose most Capitol people dress like that.

"Tybalt Hood!"

A big, tough-looking boy comes out from the fifteen-year-old line and makes his way up the stage. Even from here, I can tell he's stomping his foot. For a fifteen-year-old, he looks frighteningly eighteen – and big. Everyone applauds for him; of course, they would, the upper districts love the Hunger Games. He has a scowl plastered across his face, his eyebrows drooping down and almost covering his frightening black eyes. He looks into one of the cameras, and I feel it's as if he's looking at me through the screen. I shudder but I know he's trying to intimidate everyone.

Luca then walks across the stage to the girls' glass balls. Before he could even put his hand in, a voice in the crowd of girls say, "My name is Tamara Randolph and I volunteer to be girl tribute for District 1!"

The cameras zoom through the girls, trying to find the source of the voice. And when they do, I can't help but gasp and let out a "No!". The girl is from the twelve-year-old lines. First-years, I call them. She looks so small, and so fragile. This is horrible; even a twelve-year-old girl becomes a Career Tribute. She turns around to face the crowd, who is applauding and screaming her name, and gives a sly grin. Her dark hazel eyes have a dark twinkle to them and as she stands next to Tybalt, her long brown hair whipping as the wind blows, I know she's no different than him.

The Capitol's seal appears again but this time it fades into the District 2's square. Again, the district's escort picks a name from the glass balls (girl's first this time) and reads it a loud, "Serena Ash!"

The girl walks up without any hesitation, a confident look on her face. Already I know she's arrogant. I examine her closely; she came from the seventeen-year-old line and I see she's gorgeous. She's all curves and beauty, though, and it reminds me of Isabelle. She's from District 2, so I already know she's a Career Tribute. Or will she leave fighting and use the same strategy Isabelle did? Her hair seems to be weaved with gold and silver ribbons and I see them glittering as she flips her hair here and there.

Don't puke, Bliss.

The crowd goes wild for her, of course. It's the boys' turn now. The escort makes her way to the glass ball and pulls out a name. "Damien Hunters!"

The crowd goes wild again as a devastatingly handsome young lad (from the eighteen-year-olds) makes his way up the stage. He's not like any other Career Tribute I've ever seen; for one thing, he looks _nothing _like Tybalt (which is basically what most boy Career Tributes look like). He's tall and slim, but muscular too, and he is definitely good-looking. He and Serena would do for a good match. His short, shaggy black hair is dyed with green accents. His eyes are the same colour as the green.

The seal appears again and it is District 3's reaping now. It's the boys' turn first this time. A name comes out of the glass ball and it is, "Amenort Hendrix!"

Amenort looks like the ghost of Tybalt – definitely what a Career Tribute _should _look like. He's smaller, though but it doesn't stop him from being intimidating. But at least he looks like his age; eighteen.

It's the girl's turn and the name is Brielle Johnson. The sixteen-year-old looks like competition for Serena; her long flaming red locks of hair frame her glowing porcelain face beautifully. Her body isn't as curvy as Serena; instead it looks more elegant and makes her look statuesque. She walks up the stage gracefully, as if she's dancing, and when she turns around, it's obvious her most prominent features are her big honey eyes. Seeing her stand next to Amenort reminds me of an old story called "Beauty and the Beast".

Well, now I've seen all the Career Tributes; Tybalt, Tamara, Damien, Serena, Amenort and Brielle.

District 4 gets a pair of siblings; Kale and Gabrielle Mercer. I bite back a cry of outrage. It's unfair to let siblings kill each other! They look so much alike, but they're not twins. Gabrielle is sixteen and older by a year. One thing's for sure, they both share the exact look of fear and dread swimming in their silver eyes.

Haven Rookwood and Ethan Scrap are District 5's tributes. They're both sixteen. Haven has the same red hair as Brielle, but hers is duller and hang loosely below her shoulders. Her big green eyes show nothing but fear and innocence and I feel sorry for her.

I find myself feeling sorry for all the tributes from that point onwards. Each one of them looks horrified and sad to be chosen. The crowd isn't as enthusiastic as the upper districts, either. No applaud came for the District 7 tributes and now I watch as only a handful of people clap for District 8.

Finally, it's District 9's turn. They started with me, of course as I remember it was "ladies first". I see Ginger Von Dane pull my name slip out – out of _thousands _– and call out my name. The cameras are zooming in on me and I see the look of shock and disbelief plastered on my face. I'm not moving and I see Cadence shaking my shoulders. I'm still frozen, though. I didn't know I wastaking such a long time to realize what had happened.

I straighten in my seat, my eyes watching the scene. Move, Bliss! Cadence is still shaking my shoulder, and doing it violently now. I see my lips move slightly (it's probably where I say "no") and I know I'm getting closer to realization now. On the other side of the girls' line, I see the Peacekeepers inching their way towards me. I finally hear Cadence's words and I see myself looking at the Peacekeepers in alert. After giving Cadence a quick hug, my legs carry me slowly up the stage. Odd, I thought I was walking quickly.

It's the boys' turn and Donovan's name is called. I feel him squirm beside me and from the corner of my eye I see the worry lines on his forehead as he watches himself walk up the stage.

The replay goes on and on and I find myself feeling tired and sleepy. I think I might just fall asleep when it's District 11's turn and there's a runaway. I'm fully alert now as I sit up straight and watch as the girl – whose name I heard the escort say is Dealishea Havedary – try to run away from the Peacekeepers. She's a pretty fifteen-year-old girl with her black hair weaved with gold strips, but she's definitely a fool to run away. The Peacekeepers catch her in the end and there's a scream from the crowd; her mother, I see. Dealishea isn't even going up the stage but instead the Peacemakers bring her immediately into custody to the train station. The boy tribute, however, is not as foolish as her. Or maybe he is? Kalum Lader Hunco, sixteen, raises his hands and volunteers. Okay, maybe it's okay for the Career Tributes to volunteer but a tribute from a lower district?

I don't watch District 12's reaping because my head has too many thoughts about the District 11 girl tribute. She's brave, I'll give her that but so, so unbelievably foolish. In all my years, I've never once seen a tribute trying to escape and Dealishea did – well, _tried_.

By the time I get myself to watch District 12's reaping, I see that it's already over and Ginger is telling us to go to bed. Isabelle says we'll reach the Capitol first thing tomorrow, so we should be well rested. I don't even wait for everyone to get up from the sofas and just walk out of the compartment to my room.


	5. My Blaze

**Frostbite **

Chapter Five – My Blaze

I get to my room and I lock the door. I've seen my competition and the only thing I can do now is to try to judge how good they'll be just by watching them from the reaping. I didn't get to watch District 12, though, but maybe tomorrow I'll ask about them to Donovan… no wait, I'd better ask Isabelle.

I rummage in the closet for some comfy pajamas only to find frilly little nightgowns. I guess that will have to do, though I don't usually sleep wearing nightgowns. There's usually a pair of shorts and t-shirt that I wear. Slipping into my nightgown, it makes me feel like I'm wearing my mother's reaping dress. Wow, the Capitol is so rich that even nightgowns feel like actual formal dresses.

I crawl into my bed (it's as comfortable as ever), pull the thick covers up to my chest and look up at the ceiling. Before I start judging each of them, I tell myself that I should not underestimate any of them – but that doesn't mean I should overestimate them either.

I sigh as I look back at all their faces. I should definitely, _definitely _watch out for the Career Tributes. I can't forget little Tamara. The twelve-year-old girl looks so innocent from afar but after seeing the grin on her, I know she's as sadistic as Tybalt and Amenort. But I can't count Damien out, too, just because he looks better than the both. Serena and Brielle – well, what can I say about them? They're gorgeous as ever and I'm sure they'll have sponsors lining up for them. Brielle looks like the mirror image of Isabelle, only younger.

My mind keeps tugging back to the girl from District 11. I wonder how long she'll last in the Games. Does she know how to use weapons? Seeing her run away, I know she's a rebel – and rebels mean fighters in my book. I wonder if she'd try to run away now, while on this train. There is no one to guard the windows but at such speed… I wonder.

My ponderings are interrupted when I hear silent taps on the door. I roll onto my side, facing away from the door. If it's Ginger or Isabelle, I really don't want to talk to them. What could they possibly want anyway? I'll just keep quiet and wait until they're gone.

But I still hear the tapping.

Feeling irritated, I get up and make my way to the door. I make sure to put on a sour look to whoever it is. I hope it's Ginger, though. I really want a reason to start yelling at her.

But when I open the door I find myself speechless and shocked. Standing in front of me is Donovan Parker with his face stained with tears pouring from his eyes like buckets of rain. For a minute, I only stare at him in shocked silence but my senses kick back into me and I ask him what's wrong.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. Finally, a word out of him!

"What's wrong?" I ask again.

"I couldn't sleep. Can I talk to you? Can I please stay with you for awhile? I promise I'll get going as soon as I see you yawning. I… just need someone to talk to…"

I nod and let him inside. I close the door behind me and sit at the sofa where he is sitting at. "Let's talk, then,"

"I thought I could handle it," he says, "I thought maybe this would easy. I thought I could defeat them all and win."

Defeat them all, including me. I stay silent and let him continue.

"But… but after seeing the other tributes, I… I don't know. I just broke inside. I don't think I'll be able to get through this. I'll die, Bliss. I won't last a day with those Career Tributes."

I shake my head; it's time to interrupt him now. "Don't talk like that. You don't know what's going to happen. No one knows."

"But I'm scared, Bliss,"

And at that point, I see Blaze in his eyes. The unborn Blaze, my little brother who didn't get a chance to see the world, I see it in Donovan. I would've been a good, protective sister to him just like Blair was to me. I would have protected him from any harm, be like Blair. Donovan's only four years younger than me, but he looks so, so young in my eyes.

"Hey," I say, "you're not alone in this. I'll… protect you."

"But what if it comes down to the both of us, Bliss? Just the both of us in the arena and we know we're in each other's way of getting back home,"

I hesitate. I want to tell him the odds of us being the final two is just too much. I want to imply that he might or I might get killed before we could even realize what's happening – but I keep in. In my eyes, he's a child. My little Blaze. And I'm not going to scare him. "We'll see…"

"I'm sorry I ignored you earlier."

I offer him a smile. "Hey, no big deal."

Liar. You're a liar, Bliss, and you know it. I inwardly smirk, thinking back at how much it offended me when he ignored me.

"So, does… does this mean we're allies?"

"Donovan, we were never enemies."

"You know, Jake said to me, '_you know what, Don? All I can ask is for you to do your best for mom, for dad, for me and for little Allie. That's all I'm asking for'_,"

"And that really _is _the only thing anyone can ask all of us to do," I say, "Who is Allie?"

"My little sister. She was born just a few weeks ago. And now… I guess… I don't think she'll be able to see one of her brothers."

"She will, I promise you."

Never make promises you can't keep, Bliss. I know inside that my promise is meaningless because for him to be able to see his sister, I'd have to die and I promised my mother and Cadence that I would fight. And even though I should never have made this promise when I was twelve, but I promised my mother I'd win and come home. My finger lightly runs over Cadence's ribbon which I still have tied on.

"What did your family ask of you?" he asks.

I look at the floor. "They asked me to fight and never give up. They asked me to… come home."

I raise my eyes and I see him squirming slightly. I know what he's thinking; _'she'd have to kill me'_ and all I can do is stare because even though we've promised to be each other's allies, we're going to have to fight as enemies to get home.


	6. Makeover

**I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my last chapter and the chapters before that, too. Also, a great thanks to those who put this story on favourties/alert. **

**This chapter is just about the Bliss and Donovan arriving at the Capitol and making their way to the Remake Centre. It introduces the stylists but the real make-over is in the next chapter, along with the opening ceremonies.**

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**Frostbite**

Chapter Six - Makeover

My eyes open a bit too quickly and they're stung by the sunlight. I roll around to the other side of the bed and for a moment, I almost think that everything was a dream. Reaping day is today and everything that had happened was a nightmare. But then I see Ginger standing beside me, clapping her hands dangerously near my ears.

I resist the urge to groan. I resist the urge to punch her. I resist the urge to scream. And all those things are very, very hard to resist.

"Wake up, dear. We have a big day ahead of us. Get ready and I'll come get you for breakfast,"

_We _don't have a big day ahead of us. It's _Donovan and I _who has a big day ahead of us. _You _are just a nuisance, Ginger Von Dane, psychotic clown! I sigh, burying my head in my pillow. I don't know why I'm starting to call her a "psychotic clown" but I guess it suits her.

I would give anything for everything to be a nightmare forever than this to be reality for even a split second. As you can guess, I'm aching. Terribly.

Get up, Bliss. This is only a start of a new day. Get up.

Slowly, carefully, I push myself up from the comfort of the bed and stand up. Every inch of my body aches, and it all sources to my heart. Every time it beats, it beats with a longing, with a taste of misery.

This is only the second day, Bliss. Pull yourself together, _please_!

I drag myself to the shower and yet again, it takes me several minutes to get the water running and when it does, it is cold water. I shiver but I don't try to change the temperature because one, I don't how to and two, I need this. I'm not going to let all the pleasures the Capitol has to offer spoil me. I'm Bliss Morgan and I may live in the nicer parts of District 9 but I still live in the _lower _middle districts.

I turn it off and dry myself, putting on a robe. I make my way to the closet to see if there are anymore decent clothes or was yesterday's attire a rare one. I find a simple white t-shirt and decide to wear yesterday's jeans.

As she said, Ginger comes back to collect me for breakfast. Upon entering the room, I'm greeted a good morning by Isabelle and I also receive a smile from Donovan. I'm served a hot, fresh pastry that smells like cinnamon. Isabelle tells me that it's called a cinnamon roll and I dig into it. Need I say how it tastes?

I suppose I'm starting to feel quite impressed now with the Capitol, but as I told myself back in the shower, I won't let it spoil me because I know there won't be any food like this in the arena. I still eat a lot, though, because it is the _Hunger _Games after all and I'm probably going to be starving.

"We're almost nearing the station," says Isabelle, "and you'll be put into the hands of your stylists. They're going to make you look attractive."

I raise my eyebrows. So, Donovan and I aren't attractive, huh?

As if reading my mind, Isabelle says, "I mean, _even more _attractive. They're going to highlight your best features and it would do you no good to object. I'm not saying the Hunger Games is all about the looks, but you've watched it before right? The more good-looking ones get more sponsors and usually win."

Well, unlike you, most of them actually _fight _rather than flirt.

"Now, are both of you good with using weapons?"

Donovan shrugs. "Well, we're from District 9, so we're hunters. I guess we're good at using a bow and arrows because that's what we usually use to hunt."

Isabelle stares at us thoughtfully. "Good. But do you have any extra knowledge?" Donovan and I hesitate, exchanging doubting looks. "Or maybe you want to keep it a secret?"

I shake my head. "No, no. I think that's all for me."

"But Jake says you're pretty handy with blades. And when there's game by, you can creep as silent as a stone," says Donovan.

I blink and stare at him in surprise. "I… I guess I'm good with blades, too."

"Don't be modest, dear, if you're good at something, you should tell us. It's going to help you in the arena," says Ginger.

I hesitate. "Uh… I'm a fast runner, and a good climber, I suppose. I'm careful; I never leave any trails behind and I'm good at hiding – but I'm bad at camouflaging. And, I guess like Donovan said, I'm as silent as stone when I creep up behind game."

Isabelle nods, her eyebrows furrowed as she tries to remember everything I've said. "And what about you, Donovan?"

"I can throw a good punch," he replies with an air of jest.

"Should I write all this down, Isabelle?" asks Ginger.

"No, it's best not to. If it falls into the wrong hands, then my tributes have no chance." Isabelle replies. She stands up and takes a peek out the window. "We're almost at the station. Ginger and I will discuss in my chambers. The Peacekeepers will escort you to meet the stylists. I'll see you soon."

As soon as they step out, I make my way to the window. We're definitely near the Capitol now; I see the tall skyscrapers piercing through the sky. They're all of different vibrant colors and glisten in the sunlight. Donovan stands beside me and gasps at all the Capitol people. He's never seen them before with their bizarre fashion sense. Some of them stop to stare at the tribute train as it speeds by past them.

They all want us to die. They're just waiting for the bloodbath to come.

I look at Donovan, whose face is the mask of excitement, as he gawks at the Capitols beautiful scenery. Has he forgotten where we are, where we're going? Has he forgotten what's going to happen to him, why he's here? I look back out the window, keeping my lips sealed. I don't want to disturb him; let him have this one quick moment of excitement before dread comes.

The train pulls into the station and I can no longer see the Capitol people. They remind of clowns, really, with all that make up they're wearing. Speaking of clowns, where's Ginger? I thought she was assigned to be with us at all times?

Never mind though, the Peacekeepers are here and follow us out the train. I see a few Capitol people trying to take a peek at us and I immediately put my head down and let my hair cover my face. I don't want them to see. I don't want them to start judging so quickly or take bets on how long I'll live. We then make our way to a car which windows are tinted; good, the Capitol won't be able to see me. I get in the backseat quickly and push my hair out my face. Donovan gets in next to me and as soon as he's inside, the door slams shut and locks.

"What do you think they'll do to us?" Donovan whispers.

I shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine."

The ride is short and the next thing we know is that we're in front of a tall, slim silver building. The door opens and the Peacekeepers escort us again inside the building. It's crowded with Capitol people and they stare and point at us as we make our way to an elevator. I get inside and let out a sigh of relief. I hate being stared at, it makes me feel odd.

The walls of the elevator are lined with mirrors and everywhere I turn I see myself, with that horrible glint in my eyes. My heart aches again. That glint in my eyes, it is misery. It's dread. I can't help it. I can't stop the aching now. All I can do is try to hold it in, try to calm myself before I start losing air again the way I did back at the Justice Building.

Breathe, Bliss. Calm down.

My chest rises and falls rapidly. The elevator is so small; it makes me feel like the walls are closing in on me. My reflections make me feel confused and dizzy and in this tiny compartment, I feel trapped. My breathing quickens and it's not so silent now. I'm losing air again and I'm gasping. The Peacekeepers just stare while Donovan tries to calm me.

"Bliss, are you alright?" he asks, shaking my shoulder – the way Cadence did at the Reaping.

Cadence. Mother. Blair. Father… _Jake_. I'm never going to see you all ever again, aren't I? I'm never coming back to District 9, aren't I?

"Bliss, Bliss, are you okay? Calm down. Please, Bliss!" Donovan's voice thunders my ears.

Bliss, think of Blaze. Little Blaze. I'm not going to leave him alone. I'm not going to abandon him. I promised to protect him and I'm not going back on my word now. I force myself, like the way I forced my self back at the Justice Building, to clear my mind. The aching in my lungs are familiar but I force myself to hold my breath a bit longer before I breathe in deeply, slowly.

"Bliss, what was that?"

I turn to look at Donovan and shake my head. "I'm sorry… it was nothing."

It was a breakdown. Again. I told myself it wouldn't happen again and now I'm telling myself again, this time more sternly. I will never breakdown again and this will be my last time. I turn to look at the Peacekeepers who are now looking straight ahead at the doors, as if nothing had happened. How cruel are they to leave me like that? What if I died?

The doors open and we walk into a room much like the room in the Justice Building; furry carpets, big velvet sofas decorated with big cushions, velvet curtains and – well, you get what I mean. The Peacekeepers leave and Donovan and I sit on the sofa facing two different doors. The one on the right is painted blue and the one on the left is painted pink. The pink is too bright and it hurts my eyes so I look down.

We wait for five minutes before both doors open simultaneously and a man and a woman come out. The man came out from the pink door and he's like any other Capitol person I've seen; a clown. His hair is a bright green and his body seems to have been dipped into purple dye. The woman (who came out of the blue door) is no different than him, though. Her bright pink hair is tousled into wild curls around her orange face. I can see her long eyelashes are green and that her lips are blue. They're both clowns.

"Hello, you two," says the man, "My name is Lysander and I'm the stylist for the girl tribute." He smiles at me. "And you must be her!"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Big duh, Lysander. Does Donovan look like a girl to him? From the corner of my eye, I can see Donovan restraining himself from laughing. I suppose he's thinking the same thing and that makes me feel like laughing, too.

The stylists, however, seem oblivious to this. The woman speaks up, "I'm Asha and I'm the boy tribute's stylist."

Asha has a thick Capitol accent and her voice is so high-pitched that it makes me want to laugh more. Donovan couldn't control himself and accidentally let out a laugh which he immediately disguises as a cough. I start 'coughing' too but only stop when I realize that _I am laughing_. It feels like such a long time ago that I last laughed.

"Well, you'll both be spending time in the Remake Centre with our teams before we fit you into your outfits." Lysander explains. "Up, up, now!"

We both hesitate and stand up slowly. I make my way over to Lysander who ushers me towards the pink door. Before I step in, I take one last look at Donovan, who's already looking at me. I'm sure we'll be looking different when we come out. Seeing the worry lines on his forehead, I give him a reassuring smile before stepping in.


	7. Opening Ceremonies

**Hey, I'm not going to be on in the next three days. So, I'm going to post three chapters at once. Sorry if most of you think my story is slow. You see, Bliss gets to the arena on Chapter FOURTEEN but the gong rings on Chapter FIFTEEN. -le sigh- Thanks to Fattiboombah for the outfit idea.  
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**Frostbite **

Chapter Seven – Opening Ceremonies

"Oww! Are you trying to peel my skin off?!" I hiss as Avara, one of Lysander's stylist team members, continues scrubbing my arm with some thick-scented soap. It stings. Bad.

"Shush," she replies.

I'm naked in a big, foaming bathtub with both my arms being furiously scrubbed by Avara and Wilma.

They're both Capitol people, so they look like clowns. Need I delve deeper into their looks? There is another one; Dill, who is a man. I told him to leave because I didn't feel comfortable having a man help _bathe_ me.

Every inch of my body feels sore right now, and not because Avara and Wilma are trying their hardest to peel off my skin. It's because twenty minutes earlier they finally finished spending an hour ripping all of my hairs from my body. Pure pain. They even plucked some of my eyebrows, too, and despite all my best efforts to try to be nice to them, I ended up yelling out all types of profanities.

I apologized, of course, after that lest they might make me wear a horrible outfit for the opening ceremonies and interview.

Avara, who is finally done with my right arm, places it back in the water and moves on to shampooing my hair. She grabs a big purple bottle and squirts out green shampoo. The scent is thick – like every other thing in this room; the soap, the conditioner, the perfume, the shampoos. After smearing the green stuff on my hair, she digs her claws into my scalp and starts scratching. I swear my scalp might be bleeding right now. Couldn't that woman cut her fingernails before doing this?! Using my free arm, I clutch the side of the tub to control myself from shouting again.

I have to stay in the tub while they torture me for the next ten minutes and after that, I'm done. Avara and Wilma leave the bathroom to wait for me outside. When I get up from the tub and wipe away the bubbles, I see my body is red. Sore and red. I pull on the silver robe hanging beside me and step outside.

"Bliss, sit here and wait. Lysander will come for you in a moment. He's currently busy discussing your outfits with Asha." says Wilma before she leaves along with Avara and Dill.

I make my way, barefoot, to the sofas and sit. I have nothing else to do, so I ponder. I wonder what we're going to dress up like this year. Last year, our tributes had the unfortunate event of dressing up like animals. They dressed up like deer, with an arrow stuck in the heart as if a hunter just shot it. They were completed with big deer antlers set on their heads and their noses painted black. Embarrassing, really.

Well, at least _that _was better than the year before it. The stylist had an insane inspiration to have the tributes wearing skin-colored underwear – _only_. Well, with red liquid that represented blood splashed all over them. They represented meat, which is obviously what we hunt and trade for. I think the stylist might have gotten fired after that, because the tributes didn't get any sponsors at all.

"Aah, hello Miss Morgan."

It's Lysander. I stand up and greet him back. "You can call me, Bliss," I say – so long as you don't _hiss _my name the way Ginger always does. But I keep that last part out.

"Can you twirl for me, Bliss?"

_Twirl? _I shrug and twirl – well, actually, I just turn around slowly, awkwardly. I hate being stared at, let alone being _examined_. I turn until he tells me to stop, and when I do, I see him staring intensely into my face.

Uh-oh. What make-over is he planning to do with my face?

"Isabelle was right," he says, folding his arms, "you have pretty eyes."

"Uh, thank you. Isabelle… talks about me?"

"Well, of course! She's your mentor. A mentor _has _to talk about her tributes to everyone in order to get sponsors – not counting the opening ceremonies or the interview, you know?"

"Oh, yeah," I say, blushing. How stupid can I be? Desperate to change the subject, I say, "So, what have you got planned for the opening ceremonies? I beg you, if you're inspired by the outfits two years ago, please just kill me already."

I wasn't joking when I said that but Lysander is laughing. "Your humor will win you points during the interview, Bliss," he replies. "Well, darling, have a seat first."

I obey him and sit down. He starts pacing and my eyes follow him.

"Now, what is District 9 known for? Hunting, right?"

I nod slowly.

"Well, hunting means you hunt for fur and meat, correct?"

I nod again as my eyes follow him as he continues pacing up and down. I hope he's not thinking of combining fur _and _meat together. It'll be a disaster and Donovan and I will look barbaric wearing fur with fake blood splashed on us.

"The previous stylists made a horrible, horrible mistake back then. They had the wrong concept of hunting!"

"They… did?"

That's what I've always thought hunting to be; meat and fur. And blood, when it gets messy.

Lysander laughs. "Of course, they did! Luckily, Asha and I have come to a wonderful conclusion!"

He looks like a madman now with a wide grin stretched on his face and the quickening of his pacing. I'm almost scared, really, because the make up on his face adds to the touch of creepiness. He suddenly stops and turns at me. He points a finger at me as if he's accusing me of something and says, "What do you think of hunting, Bliss?"

"Uh, I…"

He helps me out, "Where do you go to hunt? What do you see everyday? Where do you spend most of your time when you're hunting?"

"We… we go to the forest to hunt, of course. Uh… I usually stay up in the trees or behind the bushes to hide from game, because if they see me they'll run away."

I still don't see where this is going, though.

Lysander nods his head, his grin widening now. "You go to the _forest _to hunt. You hide in the _trees _and _bushes _to avoid scaring game. Don't you see, Bliss? You're going to dress up like the trees!"

If I had been drinking, I would have spit it all out and choke. Trees?! What the hell do they have _anything _to do with hunting?!

As if reading my mind, Lysander says, "You see, back in the old days, soldiers had to wear these green uniforms to blend in with the woods. They're sort of like hunters, you know, when they creep silently in the jungle. As you said before, hunters have to hide themselves in the trees or bushes so as to not scare game away."

I nod my head, finally realizing where he's getting at.

"But," he says, "I'll make you look elegant because everyone knows trees aren't exactly graceful. You won't be wearing scruffy pants or wide shirts – trust me, darling, you're going to look fabulous!"

~/~/~/~

I find myself, in the next hour, wearing a lovely frilly dress. The back part of the dress reaches my ankles but the front opens up at the knees to reveal my legs, which are covered with black high boots. But the color does not suit the dress. It's green with three different shades all meshed up together. I like the design and color even though I know it's inspired by old army clothes like Lysander told me.

Lysander's team helps with the finishing touches. Avara is putting some type of make-up all over my face, Wilma is drawing green patterns which resemble vines on my arms and Dill is curling my hair. My fringe is clipped back because it's disturbing Avara. I've never had so much work done to me at once – if you don't count the time when they tortured me.

After everything's done, Dill takes off the clip from my fringe which I tousle to cover my forehead and take a look in the mirror. I gasp. It's not ugly. At all. But I wouldn't call it beautiful, either. Not the "elegant-graceful-lovely" type of beauty. It looks more of a dark kind of beautiful. My face is fully painted in the same three shades of green from my dress and a bit of black. And, to quote Avara, "so your pretty little eyes don't get drowned in the face-paint", I'm wearing thick black eyeliner and mascara. Wow, not to mention my eyes are naturally green. The vines that Wilma had drawn on my arms add a nice little touch to the dress. I look almost wild with my curly hair, but I think I like it.

"Thank you," I say and it surprises me that I'm sincere.

"Well, now let's go see how Donovan looks, shall we?" says Lysander.

Lysander's team giggles and whisper in excitement as we walk out the door. I find that Donovan, Asha and her team are already out. Donovan wears a simple black shirt, pants with the same pattern as my dress along with an identical jacket to go with the pants. He wears the same black boots and his face, too, is painted with the green colors.

Lysander and Asha are standing side by side now, admiring their works while their teams clap and whisper in excitement behind them. "That outfit looks good on Donovan, Asha. I see you've decided to go with the natural old army look!"

Asha nods. "Yes, thank you for noticing, Lysander. I absolutely love the transformation on your girl! She looks absolutely stunning!"

I blush and I'm thankful the face-paint is covering the red that I'm sure is blooming my skin now. "Well, I guess we should get going?"

Everyone nods in agreement and just as Lysander goes to press the elevator button, I say, "Hold on! I forgot something!" And so I run through the pink doors to Lysander's Remake Room and to the silver robe I left on the sofa. I dig my hands into the pockets and pull out Cadence's ribbon. The blue doesn't really go well with the green I'm wearing but I don't care. I tie the ribbon around my wrist as I make my way back to them.

"My friend gave it to me. I'd like to wear it, please?"

I hear murmurs of disagreement from the teams but Lysander smiles at me and nods. It's good that he understands. I hope Cadence will be watching and I hope she sees the ribbon. I'm not letting her down. We go back to the first floor (thankfully, no Capitol citizen is there to stare and point) and climb into our chariot. Lysander and Asha escorts us and I'm glad that their teams aren't tagging along.

"Good luck and act fabulous, darlings!" says Lysander before the chariot door closes.

It's all silent. Even I'm not in a talkative mood with Donovan who's gone back to the state of not speaking to me. Because everything's so silent, it makes me jump when I hear the opening music suddenly blast up. Donovan and I exchange looks as the doors open and the chariot starts moving. The ride almost takes a long time, though, and we find ourselves at the City Circle.

I hear the crowd roaring and I poke my head out to see why. Well, of course it's Panem's favorite District 1 tributes. They're literally sparkling as they walk out wearing outfits decorated with jewels. I think it's an unfair advantage that they specialize in jewelry. Of course all of their outfits would be gorgeous. _They _don't have to worry about having fake-blood all over them.

Our chariot moves closer as District 1's chariot drives away. I look away as District 2 walks out, for fear that I might feel intimidated. Out of all the Career Tributes, District 2's are the most attractive and even though they're not going to have jewels all over their attires like District 1, I'm sure they'll be gorgeous.

I can hear the crowd's roars deafeningly thumping my ears. As a distraction, I turn towards Donovan and laugh, "You know, I thought we'd be wearing these horrible clothes like last year."

He lets out a chuckle. "Yeah, lucky us, right?"

District 8's chariot finally drives away and it's our turn now. The door opens and I step out first. I almost freeze at how large the size of the crowd is. I hesitate at first, not knowing what to do, but then I remember Lysander's words;

"_Good luck and act fabulous, darlings!"_

Act fabulous? How can I do that when I'm not naturally fabulous? I try to copy what the District 1 girl did, waving and blowing kisses. Oh, and smile, of course. All of the waving a blowing kisses would look ridiculous if I'm frowning.

The crowd applauds for us, but it's not as loud as District 1's or District 2's. I don't care. I'm just thankful that they're even clapping. Two years ago when our tributes dressed like meat and blood, everyone was silent. There were even a few who booed them. I wave my right hand, the hand where I tied Cadence's ribbon, up high. I don't turn to look at Donovan, not even once. I'm too caught up in the moment.

We finally find ourselves back in our chariot, being taken to President Snow's mansion. It's the same boring speech year after year. The anthem plays and after that, we're finally able to go to the Training Centre.

We get out of the carriage and are greeted by our stylists and their teams. Lysander won't stop telling me how darkly beautiful I look and how I did well when I walked. I try to shush him because he's talking so loud but I let him talk because District 1's stylists are louder anyways.

I turn away from him and I look at all the other tributes. Finally, for the first time, I'm in the same room as my enemies.


	8. Enemies

**I forgot to mention that even though my story is slow-ish, but some of the chapters are important. Like chapter fourteen. It's important not because Bliss gets to the arena but... ahem, well, you'll read. Let's just say... it left her breathless.**

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**Frostbite **

Chapter Eight - Enemies

I can feel their eyes boring into me. Even though they're talking to their stylists, mentors and escorts, I know everyone is looking at everyone else and trying to evaluate them. I'm not so different, either, as I pretend to listen to Lysander and Asha's story about how they thought of dressing us up like soldiers, my eyes scan the other tributes.

I see the runaway girl from District 11 talking to her mentor. From the Reaping recap, I saw she was a fast runner, but not faster than the Peacekeepers. I guess if anyone would try to kill her, she'd just run away really fast. Right now she looks almost bored, really. My eyes shift now towards the District 1 tributes. They're grinning like they know something other people don't. Well, it's needless to say that they're going to slaughter everyone with the help of the other Careers. In person Tybalt looks taller than he was when I saw him in the Reaping. Scary. My eyes shift again and I land on the District 2 tributes, the gorgeous ones (if you don't count Brielle in). Serena is glowing and I find that I can't take my eyes off of these two beautiful people. I do, however, when the District 2 boy catches me staring.

My eyes flea to the floor. I can still feel his eyes burning on me and I blush. Good thing the only thing that keeps him from seeing that sudden rush of blood is the face-paint. Whenever I would think that he's finally turned somewhere else, I would look up only to see him glaring at me again. Well, technically, he isn't glaring. Just staring with too much intensity.

Ginger and Isabelle finally arrive and they congratulate us on how well we did for the Opening Ceremonies. Good, a distraction. We talk a bit more before Isabelle suggests we go up to our floor. Each district has their own floor, I'm told. Well, that's a relief because I sure don't want to have a room right next to another tribute who's planning to kill me.

The six of us enters an elevator already crowded with a group from District 5. Luckily, the elevator has enough room not to make us feel packed. We don't talk to the other group, except for Ginger and the District 5's escort. We reach the fifth floor and as soon as the doors slide open, the District 5 group rushes out. As the door closes I see an Avox girl with a familiar face. My heart skips a beat and the doors slide close again. I shake away the thought I'm thinking right now. It just couldn't be…

"Hey, you okay?" Donovan whispers. "You're not going to go into hysterics again, are you?"

I force up a smile. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

The doors slide open once again when we reach our floor. All I want to do now is just take a long shower, crawl into bed and sleep but we have to stand in the hallway a while longer as Isabelle and Ginger thank Lysander and Asha for their, to quote them, "marvelous help in making our dear tributes look gorgeous for the Opening Ceremony".

The stylists finally leave, but not without saying goodbye to us first. Lysander keeps on telling me that I look "fabulous, fabulous, fabulous!" and I try hard not shout at him to shut up. Too bad, he's the only adult I like.

Ginger shows us to our rooms and as soon as I'm in mine, I shut the door and lock it. I hear her say something through the door but I'm not listening. I turn around and gasp. My room is bigger than my whole house. It's so big and spacious that I feel that I can even _put _my whole house in it. My awe does not, however, distract my exhaustion. On my way to the bathroom, I come across a full-length mirror. I stop and take a look at myself. I allow myself a quick moment of vanity, letting myself think that I do in fact look, in a dark way, "fabulous, fabulous, fabulous!"

I pull myself away from the mirror before I go too far and enter the bathroom. It's bigger than my room back home. I make my way to the sink, turn the tap on and with one last vain look at my face, I splash it with water. I can feel Avara's make-up dripping from my face. My eyes shut, I splash some more water and this time I scrub it. After feeling satisfied and sure that I have no more gunk on my face, I open my eyes.

I look like my normal self again.

I contemplate if I should shower and then sleep or just sleep? I'm so, so, _so _very exhausted right now and I don't have the patience to deal with the complicated shower. I decide to change my clothes and go to sleep. Taking off my dress is hard; I have to be very careful not rip or damage the fragile material and it takes me almost five minutes to get it off.

Fortunately, the closet here has a device that finds the clothes I want for me. I'm in no mood to rummage around for good clothes so I just pick a simple white pair of pants and a white tank top to go with it. After changing it my clothes and before I crawl into my bed, I take off Cadence's ribbon and place it on my dress.

And now, for the moment I've been waiting for, as I'm about to jump onto my bed, there's a knock on the door. Is it Donovan? I force myself to stay awake for just a few more minutes. I'll tell him I need to sleep, that I'm exhausted and that if he needs to talk, we'll talk tomorrow. But when I open the door, it's none other than Ginger Von Dane, the psychotic clown.

She looks at me up and down. "Dear, I hope you're not planning to go to bed? It's suppertime! I told you I'd be coming to pick you up when you went into your room."

Now this is a good reason to start yelling at her. But fatigue wraps me up so tightly in its embrace that I have no will to argue. I'm going to regret this tomorrow, for not shouting at her when the opportunity comes, but I tell her that I'll be out in a few minutes.

I close the door and make my way lazily over to the closet-device. I choose a long blue coat-like-jacket to wear over my pajamas. There's no way I'm going to tire myself even more by changing, so I pull the jacket over me and go meet Ginger outside.

Everyone's there in the dining room when I arrive. And by everyone, I mean Isabelle, Ginger, Donovan, Lysander and Asha. "I thought you two went home?" I ask our stylists as I take seat, yet again, next to Donovan.

"Home? Weren't you listening just now in the hallway? We said we needed to change down on the stylist floor." Asha answers.

So, what was the big goodbye for? Do all Capitol people give a big goodbye when they know they're coming back? 'Oh, yeah, I'm going to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Goodbye! I hope I see you again. You look gorgeous, by the way and take care!'

I'm exhausted as ever and I can barely move my hand to get my glass to take a sip of water. What does wake me up, though, is the scent of food as the Avoxes serve them to us. The first dish is mushroom soup. I finish the whole bowl and by that time, I find myself fully awake. I finish the rest of the meal and it's time for us to move on to the sitting room to watch the Opening Ceremony replay.

If I was still in an exhausted, sleepy mood, I would be shouting at everyone now. If I'm being kept from my sleep too long, I'll turn moody and angry and you'll never hear the end of it.

Even sitting here, in the sitting room, I can feel the thundering as the crowd roars and cheers for District 1. The pairs past by on and on and finally it's our turn. I watch with interest – I fell that vanity again – as Donovan and I step out. I have to admit, I really was doing good for the ceremonies. When I wave my hand, Cadence's ribbon stands out from all the green. Good. I want her to see it. I see Donovan doing the same thing as me, except for the kiss blowing. Only now do I realize that some of the people are calling out Donovan and my names, here and there.

When we finally go out of view and it's District 10's turn, I lean back in the sofa feeling satisfied. I feel confident now. There's _got _to be a sponsor, at least one, who is willing to sponsor me. They have to see the improvement in District 9, right?

After that, we're allowed to go back to our rooms. I do so hastily and I reach my room before Donovan even leaves the sitting room. Staring at my bed, I doubt I'm going to ever fall asleep now that I'm fully awake. But I'm proven wrong when as soon as my head hits my pillow, I fall into the sweet, longing slumber.


	9. First Day

**Frostbite **

Chapter Nine – First Day

The first day of training and I'm surprised to find myself awake so early. Just as I had thought last night, I _do _regret not shouting at Ginger when I could. Well, there's no use crying about it now. I take a shower and this time, I actually look at the buttons on it before randomly pressing them and getting into chaos. There's one that says "FULL-BLAST" and I know I shouldn't, but because of my curiosity, I press that button.

Chaos.

Since the shower has three heads on each of the walls, all three of them turn on with a powerful blast. It's hard not to fall down into the tub and get back up. The water feels heavy, really heavy, as it pounds on my body. Every time I try to get up, it pushes me back down and I figure out that this shower is _attacking _me. I frantically start pressing random buttons and finally after several mishaps like squirting soap, electric shock (that one was scary) and such, it stops.

I look at my body and I see it sore and red, just like it was at the Remake Centre. Stupid shower. I'd rather much have my old malfunctioning one back at home. I make my way to the closet-device and choose simple clothes; a sleeveless green top and black trousers.

Just as I have finished combing my hair, Ginger comes to collect me for breakfast. We have discussion while we eat.

"Today is the first day of your training," says Isabelle, "and since you're both hunters, I presume you know the basic survival skills. So, I don't want you both wasting time there. But don't go the stations where you're good at, either. Save it for the private training in front of the Gamemakers. Stay away from the big weapons station where the Careers will surely go to."

Donovan and I nod.

"Bliss, what are your weaknesses?"

"Uh… I'm bad at camouflaging," I reply and it's no lie.

I've tried to camouflage once while I hunted, thinking it will be easier to catch game by blending in with the plants around me so the animals won't see, and then if they can't see me they'll just walk past me and I could shoot them. It all went terribly wrong and I ended up sticking out than blending in.

"You go over and train at the camouflage station _only_."

I raise my eyebrows. Train camouflaging _only_? While others will be going here and there to learn new skills, I'll be stuck at the camouflage station? How will that help me?! I keep my mouth shut, though, because I _have _to listen to Isabelle despite my protests and my hatred for her.

"What about you, Donovan?" she continues.

"I'm bad at starting fires, tying knots, using knives and-" he stops when he sees the look on Isabelle's face.

She sighs. "Well, I guess you'll go into all the stations you're bad at, then."

I feel a pang of jealousy. Donovan gets to move from station to station while I have to stay glued to the camouflaging station forever, is it? I'm about to open my mouth to lie and say I have other weaknesses when Ginger stands up and says,

"Well, it's almost ten. Let's get going now, shall we?"

I follow Donovan and Ginger to the elevator, all the while muttering all types of profanities under my breath. The elevator goes down, down, down to the underground level but it takes a short minute. The doors slide open to reveal a large gymnasium. As we step out, Ginger bids us good luck and goes back up.

We're not the first ones there, though. The Careers are gathered in a group not far from where we're standing. They stop talking and stare at us as we pin the cloth with the number "9" on the back of our clothes. I can feel the District 2 boy – Damien – staring at me again like he did last night. There's nothing to mask my blush now, so I quickly turn away to the opposite direction.

"Well, well, well. Look at what we have here, eh?" I hear a voice say.

I turn around and see Tybalt making his way towards us, a sadistic grin on his face. The others are close behind him – is he the leader, or something? I can see Donovan stumbling backwards from the corner of my eye but I hold my ground. They can't do anything to us – not _yet_. Little Tamara is right beside him, wearing the same evil mask that he is.

"District 9, is it?" says Serena and I'm shocked to hear her voice so soft, a voice that I would have imagined coming from Tamara.

Donovan and I stay shut. Donovan steps backwards every time the Careers take a step forward. I'm still holding my ground and they're now getting dangerously close. Tybalt towers over me and I don't feel intimidated; surprisingly, I feel disgusted and nauseas because he smells like he's never showered before. I try breathing through my mouth but it only adds to the nausea. I can feel my eyes watering as Tybalt's putrid body odor stings my eyes.

"Scared, District 9?" he asks tauntingly.

I shake my head. "No… it's just that you stink so badly!"

I can hear Donovan and the other Careers gasp at my words. They're probably thinking, 'who is this girl?', 'how dare she?', 'is she asking to be killed?'.

I look at the other Careers and see that they're all giving me the same dirty look – except for Damien. He's smirking and looking at me like he's approving me or something. Well, guess what? I don't need his approval at all.

Tybalt is about to say something when the familiar 'ting' of the elevator sounds. The door slides open to reveal the District 5 and 8 tributes. I take his moment of distraction to take two steps back. He glares back at me and his eyes glint with pure hatred.

"This is isn't over District 9!" he growls before retreating back with the Careers.

Donovan yanks my elbow so I turn and face him. "What are you doing?! Are you asking to be killed?!"

"What's the difference?" I say, putting my chin up defiantly. "He's going to kill me anyways even if I don't ask him. Plus, I was just being honest. He really _did _reek."

Donovan sighs. "That officially puts you on top of his 'to-kill' list."

I shrug. "I guess some people don't take honesty too well."

Despite my so-called courage facing up to Tybalt, I'm screaming with fear inside because I know I'll pay for it in the arena. While we wait for the other tributes to arrive, I can't help but take swift glances towards the Careers. Tybalt keeps glaring at me and whenever I would look at him, he would whisper something to the others.

"Aww," I say with my pretend-courage to Donovan, "they're forming a plan to kill me _especially _for me. I feel special."

He shakes his head. "You really shouldn't do that, Bliss. There's a great chance that you'll be his first target at the Cornucopia."

I freeze. Maybe Donovan's right. My plan when I get to the Cornucopia is to grab all that is near me and run. But with Tybalt hungry for my bloodshed, I'll be the first person he'll try to attack as soon as he gets a weapon. I might not be able to run away. I look up to observe him and I feel assurance that even if I am first on his 'to-kill' list, I'll be able to outrun him. Just look at the size of his body! I assure myself that it's not made for speed. And even if he tries to attack, I have strong reflexes.

The last of the tributes arrive and Celeste, the head trainer, gives a talk about the stations here and the rules. She keeps repeating on and on that no tribute is allowed to attack another tribute. I can't help but grin and look at Tybalt whenever she says that. She releases us and, as I was told to do so, I immediately head straight for the camouflaging station.

I'm the first one there and the trainer looks please. I see Donovan heading off to the fire-starting station and the Careers off to the big-weapons station. How typical, I think. I grab a bowl of mud and start wiping it all over my arms. Good thing I'm wearing a sleeveless shirt.

"Hey, District 9," a voice says.

I turn around and find myself surprised to see Damien there. I could feel the blood rushing up to my cheeks and I immediately concentrate my eyes on the bowl of mud and my arm.

"District 9, did you hear me?"

"I have a name!" I snap, turning around the face him again. "And it's not District 9."

"Hey, relax. I don't know your name, so what? You don't need to get all snappy with me."

"Okay, fine then, _District 2_. What do you want, _District 2_? Aren't your Career friends worried about you, _District 2_?"

He puts his hands in front of him, palms facing the front. "Hey, hey, okay. Let's start over, shall we? My name is Damien."

"I know," I reply, turning my attention back to the mud. "And if you watched the Reaping recap, you might know my name, too."

He puts a finger to his chin and puts on a comical thinking-face. "Well, I know your name isn't Tamara, Brielle or Serena, that's for sure. Hmm… District 9, eh? I'm sure I've watched it… or perhaps I've already fallen asleep by that time, seeing the lower districts are as interesting as watching grass grow."

The blood rushes up to my face again, but this time it's not because I'm blushing. Out of anger, I splatter the mud onto his pants. "Oh, oops! I'm clumsy," I say.

"You're forgiven,"

"I didn't say I was sorry,"

He ignores what I said and continues on trying to remember my name. "I think I might remember you; the one who was paralyzed when her name was called, correct? The one who took _ages _to get onto the stage, right? Your name is… Blizzard Moron, isn't it?"

I splatter the mud onto his face and I don't bother covering it up as an accident. "Bliss!" I hiss, "My name is Bliss Morgan, you moron!"

He chuckles and I'm surprised to find him not angry. He wipes off the mud casually with his sleeve. "Well, I'll talk you later then, Bliss Morgan." He replies before walking away.

I huff and continue on with the camouflaging. I can feel myself blush again. Damien Hunters is by far the most arrogant, obnoxious person I've ever met. But… but why do I feel, like I currently feel now, butterflies in my stomach whenever he comes near me? It's probably just his good-looks, I tell myself because in the depths of my mind, I have this other thought.

"Piss off!" someone shouts.

I turn around just in time to see Dealishea, the runaway girl from District 11, falling to the ground from a training-tree with a spear through her stomach.

Dealishea hits the ground with a 'thud' and the room is filled with gasps. Everyone stops what they're doing and glue their eyes to the fallen girl. I look up as a girl, who I've never seen before, up on the training-tree at the tree-climbing station. I know it's the District 12 girl I forgot to ask about after watching the Reaping recap when I hear someone say, "I can't believe District 12 did that!"

The Gamemakers rush to Dealishea and I see the District 12 girl staying put on the tree. Her face is the mask of boredom, as if nothing had happened. A stretcher is brought in and I watch as the poor girl is taken out of the gymnasium.

"Get down here, District 12!" a Gamekeeper shouts.

The girl doesn't budge. "It was an accident, okay? I didn't mean to hurt her." She says but her face still wears the same mask of boredom.

"Okay, everyone, get back to your trainings!" another Gamekeeper says. "There's nothing to see here. Get back to your trainings! Mind you, you only have three days left of training so I suggest you get to it!"

I can't seem to pull my eyes away from the District 12 girl but I force myself anyways. The Gamekeeper was right; I really should be focusing on my training. I continue on with my camouflaging and fail miserably. The trainer says that I don't have enough balance of the mud and greens to look like I'm apart of the forest. It surprises him that I stay put and continue on practicing but it also pleases him to see how committed I am with this. Well, if it was up to me, I'd be going for the axes now.

I try to ignore, unlike the other tributes, the sound of the District 12 girl being pulled out from the gymnasium. I can hear she's struggling but her protests are silenced one she's in the elevator and the doors slide close.

I'm relieved when it's lunchtime. I sit with Donovan and we discuss how our trainings went. I have little to tell him, though, because all I did was camouflage, camouflage and camouflage. I don't tell him about the little Damien incident. He tells me that he now knows how to create a decent fire without burning himself but he's a little off with the knot-tying. I laugh, because all those things are so easy to me. As a hunter, he should have already known them.

We get back to the training; me, off to the camouflage station again and Donovan to the knot-tying station. The trainer is surprised and pleased. I'm guessing I'm the first – and only – tribute to go to this station more than once. Well, if he's pleased now, he'll be ecstatic to find me here again tomorrow, and the day after that.

The training ends nearing suppertime so Donovan and I are happy to immediately be getting food after this tiring day. The elevator ride is quick and as soon as the doors slide open, I see Ginger there. Oh, damn, I forgot that psychotic clown still exists. She leads us to the dining room and I'm glad to see Lysander (and also Asha) there along with Isabelle – though I'm not as excited with my mentor.

Immediately when we sit down, Donovan and I are flooded with questions about how the training went. Just like lunchtime, I have little to tell. Donovan is the opposite of me. I listen to him as he talks about his training and I feel envious because he gets that much freedom to go from station to station.

"Did you know Bliss almost got herself in trouble with the Careers?" he says.

I frown. Thanks a lot, Donovan. Isabelle and Ginger are now muttering some type of disapprovals to me. I don't care what they think; I don't need anyone's approval and especially not from them.

I shrug. "It was nothing, okay? Besides, _Tybalt _was the one looking for trouble with me. It's not my fault he happens to stink and that I tell him that."

"Bliss, please try to avoid yourself from getting in trouble again." says Isabelle as she takes a glass of wine from an Avox girl.

Ginger, too, grabs a glass of wine. "Yes, I agree with Isabelle. We don't want any trouble."

"But I hear there's already trouble," says Asha. "Lysander and I heard a girl was stabbed today!"

The Avox girl passes the glass of wine to Donovan and then makes her way to me. I'm not paying much attention to her and take the wine. I take sip of it and glance up to look at her when suddenly I choke. I spit the wine from my mouth and get into a coughing fit.

I stare in disbelief at the Avox girl, my sister Blair.


	10. Reunion and Defiance

**Hey people. The two week holiday is over and school has started again. I'm probably not going to update as quick as I did but I promise I'll update at least 2 times a week. You have NO idea how I hate school. BTW, I'm gonna be busy writing songs for this band I just unofficially joined. So, yeah, slow moving... Thanks for the people who reviewed the last three chapters. Here's the tenth chapter. Let's just say... it's not really my favourite one. It seems messily written to me.**

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**Frostbite **

Chapter Ten – Reunion || Defiance

No, it couldn't be. Is it really Blair? I'm about to say her name but stop because, after making sure no one is looking, she puts a finger to her lips and rush off. Not to mention I'm still in a coughing fit, anyways.

"Bliss, are you alright?" Lysander asks, thumping my back.

"I… I… I'm fine. It's just… the wine." I say. "It tastes horrible!"

I hear Ginger making a "hmph" sound. "Well, maybe it's a little too strong for you. I'm sure people in _your district _have never tasted wine before."

I look up in surprise to see how offended Ginger is. I didn't think a little comment about the wine could spoil her mood. This is also another thing I hate about Capitol people; they overreact. Plus, I wasn't lying. The wine _did _taste horrible in my opinion. It tastes dry and just a sip from it, I already feel dizzy.

They go back to talking about the accident with the District 11 and District 12 girls. As much as this topic intrigues me and I would like to know more about it, I'm too distracted by the thought that Blair is here. I don't see her again throughout the rest of the meal. Where has she gone to? Did she leave me – again? Or… maybe everything was just a figment of my imagination? Oh, wait, I'm _hallucinating _now? If I am, I blame it all entirely on the wine. Blair's disappearance after that confirms my suspicion that I'm hallucinating.

Even when it's time for dessert, everyone is still talking about the training incident. They're talking about what type of punishment the District 12 girl will get when Lysander says, "Oh, I heard she was suspended. They're still trying to figure out a punishment for her. Maybe they'd just execute her."

The crème brulèe I'm eating gets stuck in my throat. They're planning to kill the District 12 girl?! Donovan and I exchange looks of shock. I would have thought she would get a whipping or get disqualified from the Games – though I think that would be more of a gift than a punishment.

I immediately lose my appetite and push my dessert away from me. They're talking about the latest fashion trends now and I know I no longer need to listen to any of it. Since we no more reasons to stay, Donovan and I are dismissed.

"So," he says as we stop in the middle of the hallway on the way to our rooms. "That was… _something_, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," is all I can get out. What does he expect me to say? Even I, who have always been so full of comments and opinions, am left speechless. I could go on and on about how unfair the Capitol was but that girl just _stabbed _another tribute for, I presume no reason.

We stand in awkward silence before he says, "I'll see you in the morning, Bliss."

I nod and head straight for my room, my eyes locked to the ground. I shut the door behind me and when I look up, I find myself shocked (yet again). Standing in front of me is Blair.

"Please," I say, "don't let this be a figment of my imagination!"

She smiles in response. Immediately, I run to her and hug her. This is real, I think. I know it is. How can I _hug _a figment of imagination? I know they'll just turn to air but this… Blair is solid and she's hugging me back. I know this is real. I pull away to take a look at her. She looks older, obviously. I can see the dark circles under her eyes as a result of working so much as an Avox. She looks well-fed, though. I'm sure the Capitol gives Avoxes enough food.

Ten years I haven't seen her, and now I'm so filled with joy.

Blair is smiling but it doesn't reach her eyes. They hold sympathy, misery, regret. I'm reminded of why I'm here, where I'm going and I, too, smile in sympathy to myself.

"I wish the circumstances were different," I whisper.

She nods in reply. I feel so sad for her. I wonder how it must feel like with a maimed tongue. She always used to love to sing and the Capitol took that away from her.

"Did you know from the beginning that I was here?"

She nods again.

Inside, my heart breaks. I'm glad to see her but I long to hear her voice, to hear her comforting words. I want to hear her saying she misses me and that she loves me because I really need those words right now. I can only imagine what she would say.

"There's so much I want to ask but…"

She stares at me in grief. _But because I can't talk_, I imagine her thinking.

"Will you stay with me?"

She nods again. She takes a few steps back and waves her hand up and down in my direction. _You're so grown up_, I imagine her saying. Well, I guess I am, since the last time she saw me was when I was eight-years-old.

"You look old, Blair," I joke.

She lets out a laugh and I'm surprised. It takes me awhile to realize that even though her tongue is cut, it doesn't mean her voice has miraculously disappeared. She can talk, I'm sure, but not properly.

We find ourselves sitting on the sofa; my head leaning against Blair's shoulder and her making tiny braids in my hair. If only our mother was here, then it would be perfect. If only the circumstances are different; that Blair isn't an Avox or that I'm not heading for my death. Most people would cry and hug and talk, but this our own unique reunion. Even if Blair can talk, we'd still be in silence. This silence is comforting and I'd rather stay in it forever.

I sigh. If only I can talk to my mother and tell her I'm with Blair. _She's fine, mom, _I imagine saying, _better than you think_. Blair is a strong person and I'm proud that she's able to get through all of this. My mother is probably worried sick, but if only I can tell her that as long as I'm with Blair, I'm fine.

There's a question I'm aching to ask but I don't dare to because I know it's going to spoil the moment and because I won't get an answer anyway; _why didn't you come back after you left? _Blair knew my mother and I both depended our lives on her. How could she just leave us?

"Stay with me," I whisper, holding onto her hand tightly like I'm afraid someone will take her away from me, before falling into sleep.

~/~/~/~

"Rise and shine, sleepy head!"

I push my face further into my pillow. Not now, Blair. I feel so tired and exhausted from yesterday's training, even though all I did was try to look like a tree.

"Wake up, dear, we don't want to be late for breakfast, do we?"

I frown in my pillow, my eyes still shut. That's not Blair – unless she miraculously grows her tongue back and her voice starts sounding like Ginger Von Dane. I risk a peek and I definitely see Ginger standing beside me.

After showering and pulling on some clothes, I head to breakfast. I don't get much too eat, though, because I woke up late and it's already nearing ten o'clock. Isabelle keeps reminding Donovan and me to stick to the stations that we have to.

The camouflage trainer is surprised to see me again and welcomes me back whole-heartedly. I only return him with a smile and get to work. The scene is the same; the forest again. A few people come and go, most are curious why I stay here and I answer them with a simple, "mentor's instructions". I'm getting better at camouflaging myself, though.

I don't see the girl for District 12 training near the spears. I don't give care, though. Dealishea is nowhere to be found and I'm guessing she's still injured. It's bad that she's missing a day of training – she'll go unprepared to the arena.

"Is the camouflaging station your favorite or something, Bliss Morgan?"

I turn around and am shocked to find Damien here again. The blood rushes up to my cheeks and I swiftly turn away. "It's my mentor's instructions," I mutter.

From the corner of my eye, I see him crouching down next to me. "You should tell that mentor of yours that defense isn't the only thing you should be training for. Take me and my friends for example; we go for the offense."

"I can see that," I reply, butterflies in my stomach. "You should tell that mentor of yours that _offense_ isn't the only thing you should be training for."

"Eh, my mentor tells me to do whatever I want. It's Tybalt I'm answering to."

I stay silent. I have no answer for that. So, I guess he's just a little lapdog for Tybalt, huh?

"Hey, I just noticed," he says, "You have pretty eyes."

I gulp. If my cheeks were pink then, they're definitely scarlet now. What is he doing? Is this some sort of strategy or something? Is he planning to make every girl from every district fall in love with him so they won't attack him or something? Wait, hold on – _fall in love_? I'm not in love. I don't think I'm falling for him. These butterflies in my stomach are just a result of him being near me… I think. I've never had a guy who's the same age as me this near to me.

That's a lame excuse, Bliss, and you know it.

"What are you even doing here, Damien?" I hiss. "Aren't your Career friends worried about you?"

"Okay, fine. I get the hint; I'm unwanted. I'll go away."

He leaves and I feel so relieved. This isn't a time for me to get distracted. I know Damien has a plan and I'm not going to fall for it. I go over and over again with the camouflaging and my trainer says I'm really improving.

We finish around suppertime again but this time our stylists aren't here. Like last night, Donovan and I are flooded with millions of questions. Again, I have little to share with them and so does Donovan. So, Isabelle decides to talk strategy.

"Bliss," she starts, "you know, you're a fairly pretty girl. Not as gorgeous as Serena or Brielle, but pretty."

I furrow my eyebrows. What's she getting at? "Uh… thanks?"

"Try to _be friends _with the Career boys. Make an alliance with them so that you'll instantly have protection at the Cornucopia. Use your charm."

I stare at her and it finally dawns on me; she's trying to make me exactly like her. By "be friends with" I know she means "flirt with". She's putting me at the camouflaging station because she plans for me to hide and run like her. No, I'm not going to degrade, humiliate and turn myself into a coward like her.

That's when I decide I'm no longer going to listen to my mentor anymore.


	11. Private Training

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. It belongs to Suzanne Collins. I do, however, own some of the characters I made up. This is just a freakin' fanfic._

**_Oh my god. I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I'm not going to make excuses for myself. I love all of you who have stuck with me. I love you all, truly. Here is the eleventh chapter. Oh, and there's something waiting for you at the end of the chapter._**

**Frostbite **

Chapter Eleven – Private Training

It's the third day of training and as I walk into the gymnasium, I can see the camouflage trainer looking expectantly at me. I look away and head for the edible plants station. I need to go to as many stations as I can before the private training with the Gamemakers. I don't have much time and I know that.

"Bliss," I know it's Donovan, "what are you doing here? Didn't Isabelle tell you to stick to the camouflaging station?"

I stare at him. "Look, I don't have much time, okay? Just do me this one favor and don't tell Isabelle. Because of her, I might not last a day in the arena!"

He hesitates for a moment before nodding his head and going off to the climbing station.

"Trying something new, Bliss?"

I don't need to turn around to see who it is. "Damien, I'm kind of in the middle of a test right now."

"What are you doing here? Wait – let me guess; mentor's instructions?"

I scoff. "I'm going against my mentor now, actually. As I said before, I'm in the middle of a test so if you don't mind…"

He doesn't budge but instead takes the edible plants test with me. I'm surprised and it takes all of my effort to stop myself from blushing (which is hard because you can't really control your blood rush). Surprisingly, I pass the test and he fails.

"Guess you're better at plants than me." he says. "Shall we try for spear-throwing now?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "_We _are not going to try spear-throwing. _I _am going to the archery station while _you _go back to the rest of the Careers who will kill you if train with someone from a _lower district_."

"Hey, we're all equals here, right?" I can tell he's saying that with an air of mockery. "Just this one time and I promise I'll leave you alone after that."

I contemplate what I should do. If I say no, he'll keep bugging me and it'll be such a distraction while I'm trying to train. I don't have much time for distractions so I agree with him. What's the harm? I've been planning to go the spear station sooner or later.

The spear-throwing station is hard for me. I've never thrown one before and I don't know how to hold it properly. I try throwing it a few times but it never hits the target – not even _close_ and once, I almost hit the trainer. Damien does well, though. I think it's his way of getting revenge at me for passing the edible plants test.

He hands a spear to me. "You know what your problem is? Your grip is too loose and too far back of the stick."

"Ugh. What am I even doing here? I don't even like using spea-" I don't finish my sentence because my breath is caught in my throat.

Damien is right behind me now. His right hand is on mine, guiding me with the spear. "Okay, now you're just holding the spear too tight. Loosen your grip a bit."

Thank goodness I'm not asthmatic for if I am, I'd definitely die right now. My heart is beating a little bit too fast and those butterflies in my stomach are back again. His breath prickles on my ear when he speaks and I feel a slight shiver.

"Bliss, loosen your grip," he says again.

I do as he says and loosen my grip, which had become so tight when he put his hand on mine. He's standing so close that's its almost possible for him to hear the fast beating of my heart.

"Okay, now aim carefully and throw."

I'm not really concentrating because he's become a really _big _distraction for me. But I throw the spear anyways and it miraculously hits the target. I can almost feel the smirk on Damien's lips as he pulls away from me.

"Good job," he says. "As I promised, I'll leave you now."

I turn and watch as he walks back to the Careers, who are now practicing with the axes. As I'm about to turn away, two pairs of eyes catch me and glare at me. Serena and Brielle. They're glaring at me like I've done something wrong. Brielle whispers something to Serena and tries to pull her away from me. She doesn't budge at first but after one last dirty look, she turns away.

I look at the other tributes. They're not paying any attention – good. Oh, and I also see Dealishea back. Good for her. I then move on to the knives station. I don't think they actually call it a "knives-station". It has other sharp, pointy things that people use to stab other people with so I'll just call it "sharp-station".

I try my hardest to look mediocre in front of the other tributes as I train throwing blades at a dummy. It's difficult, though, because I have to admit that I am pretty good at it. Sometimes I purposely let a blade miss its target. After figuring out that I don't need training with the blades since I'm already good at it, I move on to archery. The result is the same; I'm good at it (not better than the blades, though) and so I move on.

I reach the climbing station. I don't go for the trees; I'm already used to them. So, I head to the wall of rocks behind the trees. It's much harder than trees, I tell you, and I almost slip three times. It takes me about ten minutes to get to the top and climb back down.

I then move on to the shelter-building station. It's the station near the big weapons area where the Careers are training at. I don't stay long, though, because I can feel their eyes on me, accusing me of something. Not to mention that Brielle and Serena purposely insult the lower districts aloud. I'm almost good at building shelters anyway, so I leave.

It is lunchtime and I sit with Donovan again. He doesn't talk much and avoids all my pathetic little attempts to make him do so. I can tell he's nervous about the private-trainings with the Gamemakers. I try telling him that it doesn't matter if he gets a low score or a high one because either way, he'll still be a target in the arena. It's harsh, I know and I realize that mistake. Fortunately for me, he's pulled a deaf ear on me and didn't hear anything I said. To get sponsors, I tell myself. It _is _important.

"Tamara Randolph!" one of the Gamemakers calls out twenty minutes after lunchtime.

I watch as the little girl stands up and makes her way into the gymnasium. The door slams close behind her, but not before I catch a glimpse of the smirk she wears. I don't know why but it hurts me to see a little girl be so sadistic and supportive of the Games. The Capitol really knows how to brainwash kids these days, I think bitterly.

Time travels a bit too fast and it's the District 8 boy's turn. I don't understand why they're doing girls first this year. Half-an-hour passes and my name is called. As I stand up, Donovan pats my arm and mutters a silent "good luck". I wish him back but I don't think he heard me.

As soon as I enter the gymnasium, the door slams shut behind me. It feels odd to be the only one in such a vast gymnasium, but I know the Gamemakers are observing me up on a balcony.

I ignore them and make my way first to the archery station. All I do is shoot the dummy from different angles. I never miss a hit, so it seems good. I take a risk and get on one of the benches, bow ready, and flip off the bench backwards. In midair do I realize it was a stupid decision but it's too late. My feet thankfully land on the ground perfectly and I shoot at a training-tree at the far end of the room. Okay. No more stupid risks, Bliss. I didn't fail on that one out of sheer luck.

I put the bow and arrows away and head straight for the sharp station. I load my fist with four blades, one for each wedge between two fingers. I load my other wrist the same way, too. I look around, making sure where to hit, and start spinning. As I spin, the blades fly from my fingers and hit a target. Once my right fist is unarmed, I use my left one. I don't really know if any of them stuck to a target because spinning really makes my vision a blur. I stop and look around. Good, I suppose. There are two that are just lying on the floor, useless, while the other blades are stuck to the targets I want them to.

I keep going back and forth from the archery station and back to the sharp station until one of the Gamemakers give me a satisfying nod and dismiss me. I get into the elevator on the left far side of the gymnasium, the one we rarely use, and press number 9. Before the doors slide close, I catch a glimpse of Donovan and silently wish him luck again.

I reach level 9 in less than a minute and head straight to the sitting room, even though I'm aching to go find Blair. I walk in, in the middle of a chit chat between Isabelle, Ginger and the stylists. They're all looking at me expectantly as I take a seat next to Lysander.

"It went well, I suppose," I say, shrugging.

"What do you mean you _suppose _it went well? It's either you _know _you did good or bad." says Ginger.

"Well, I don't know…"

"What do you mean you don't know, Bliss? You were there at the training, what did you do, what were the Gamemakers' reactions, what-"

"I don't know, okay?!" I snap. "I trained my archery and the blades like I was told to do so! I wasn't exactly paying attention to the Gamemakers, so I don't know what their reactions are! And I also can't read people's minds so I have no damn clue what they're thinking! I don't know if I did well or not, because I'm not the judge here, okay?! If it were up to me, I'd say I did excellent!"

I practically shouted the last word. Feeling annoyed, I stand up and storm out of the room, leaving the rest of them in awkward silence. I hate Ginger so much. Who does she think she is, asking me those types of questions? I would understand if it had been Isabelle who was interrogating me but _her_?!

Stupid psychotic clown!

I storm into my room and slam the door shut. The objects nearest to it tremble slightly. I'm so angry that I don't even notice Blair standing at the opposite side of the room, near the windows, and I jump on my bed and muffle my screams with a pillow.

Blair puts a hand on my shoulder and I turn, not surprised to see her there. "Sorry," I say, feeling embarrassed at my immature actions just now.

She shakes her head and pulls me upright so that I'm sitting. She sits right next to me and opens her right hand to reveal two berries in them; one is red and the other is blue.

"What… what do you want me to do with them?"

She shakes her head. She picks one of them up and presses it to her lips before putting it back down. _Eat them_, I imagine her saying.

I look at the berries carefully. I remember Cadence's words perfectly, _"Don't eat the berries there. Red berries – they're poisonous." _I look at Blair incredulously. "Eat them? But… one of them is poisonous!"

A smile lights on her face and she nods vigorously. She points her finger from the red one, to the blue one and pulls the finger across her neck. _Which one is the poisonous one? _I imagine her saying.

"The red one's the poisonous one." I answer. I still don't know what she's doing.

She nods her head and then shakes it. She picks up the blue berry in her other hand and rolls it around her fingers in front of me. Carefully, she breaks the delicate skin with her fingernail and soft thick red liquid oozes out. She takes the red berry and does the same. The same red liquid oozes out and she holds both of them up for me.

"You mean berries with red insides are… poisonous?"

She nods her head and smiles. _Good girl, Bliss, _she would say. She makes her way to one of the sofas to get a small sack and comes rushing back to me. She empties out all the contents onto my bed; all of them are different types of berries, leaves, twigs and that entire sort.

I understand now; she's going to be my own personal edible plants trainer.

"Blair, how did you get all this?"

She gives me a 'look'.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

She first teaches me how to differenciate between poisonous berries and the non-poisonous ones (apparently, there are many ways), and then she teaches me which plants can be use for healing and/or eating, and so on. It's hard to learn because she can't speak but I do all I can to understand because Blair is helping me out so much. The lesson goes on until it's nearing suppertime. She collects back all the things and stuffs them in the sack. With one last meaningful look, she leaves.

I sit in silence for a few minutes. I think about how Blair is doing her best to try and save me so I can go home. Even without a tongue, she's giving a lot of effort to teach me all that she knows about plants – because she's good at them, I remember. After our father died and my mother was still in her zombie-state, it was hard for Blair to find meat. She usually made soups with herbs she found. I never liked vegetables but after she forced them down my throat for a several months, I've come to love to eat them.

I hear a knock on the door and rush over to answer it. It's Ginger, to collect me for supper, I suppose. We stand facing each other awkwardly. I think she's hurt that I yelled at her, but who wouldn't?

"Ginger, I'm sorry." I say but even I know that it's not true. I've been wishing for a reason to shout at her and I'm satisfied. "I didn't mean to be so rude to you. It's just that… stress makes me so…"

Luckily, I don't have to finish that sentence. "It's alright, dear. Let's go, the others are waiting."

As we make our way to the dining room, I can't help but suddenly wonder why I'm always the last one to arrive. Lysander and Asha are still here, waiting to watch the scores with us. They look pleased to see that Ginger and I are on good terms again – well, not _me, _of course. I still dislike her.

"I almost forgot. How did your training go?" I ask Donovan as I sit down next to him.

He shrugs. "I spent some of the time with spears. I don't know why – it was stupid and I just made a fool out of myself. So, I went to the archery station. I can tell the Gamemakers were becoming bored so I went climbing. Slipped a few times, but I doubt they noticed."

I nod. "Well, good for you."

He lowers his voice. "Isabelle told me about your training – but it was vague. Care to tell me about it?"

I smile at him apologetically. "Sorry. After what happened with Ginger – which I think you've heard about, I'm sort of sick of trying to remember what happened."

He nods and continues eating.

After dessert, we immediately head straight for the sitting room. I didn't really care about what score I'd get then but now I'm extremely nervous. I need this, to get sponsors. I'm aiming for a seven; not too great but still attention-catching.

The Capitol seal flashes in the screen in front of us. A picture of Tamara comes up and below it is the number nine. It's not surprising, since I know the Careers usually get high scores, but I can't help but wondering what she showed the Gamemakers. Damien gets an eight and I almost laugh seeing that his score is lower than little Tamara. The faces flash by quickly and suddenly Donovan's picture comes up. He gets a seven and I congratulate him. As suddenly as Donovan's, my picture comes up and below it is then number ten.

"Good job, Bliss!" says Lysander.

I receive a few more "congratulations" before turning back to the screen. I pay no attention to the other faces that flash by. My mind is set on the number ten. My instant thought is that I'm now in the same rank as the Careers. I don't know if that's supposed to be good or bad – oh, not to mention I'm higher than Damien.

I imagine what Blair would say when I tell her this. _The same ranks as the Careers, huh? Well… just make sure you don't turn out like one of them. I've seen the Hunger Games, Bliss, and I've seen how it can change someone. Just… promise me, don't change in there._

* * *

_Here's your present. I don't know if I should call it a present. Maybe a tease or torture? Here's the sneak peek of the next chapter._

I finally push her off me and roll over to get away. My shoulder hits something and I turn to see a blade there. I quickly grab it and as soon as I stand up, Tamara is already charging for me. I'm quick, though, and I stab her with my blade. Her blood splatters on me, on my face, but I keep going on. All the blood has drained from her face and she falls to the ground, dead. I can even hear the sound of the canon to confirm her death but, no, I keep slashing her corpse, getting her blood all over me.


	12. Interviews

**Gaaaah! I don't deserve to have this story read anymore. But I thnak all of you have been patient. I give you this chapter and Chapter Thirteen.**

Chapter Twelve - Interviews

"Die!" Tamara hisses at me.

We're circling each other in the middle of the Cornucopia. I flinch at her harsh words. We have no weapons in our hands but she looks like she's ready to attack at any moment. Even I, who has always pitied her, feel thirsty for her bloodshed. All the sympathetic feelings I might have had towards her are now definitely gone.

"You're a coward!" I hiss. "If you're so great and strong, then why aren't you attacking?!"

As if I had commanded her, she runs toward me, releasing a cry of outrage. I'm unprepared as she jumps on me, making me fall on my back. She and I wrestle for a bit, her always trying to scratch my eyes out and I always trying to break her neck.

I finally push her off me and roll over to get away. My shoulder hits something and I turn to see a blade there. I quickly grab it and as soon as I stand up, Tamara is already charging for me. I'm quick, though, and I stab her with my blade. Her blood splatters on me, on my face, but I keep going on. All the blood has drained from her face and she falls to the ground, dead. I can even hear the sound of the canon to confirm her death but, no, I keep slashing her corpse, getting her blood all over me.

"NO!" I scream, waking up from the nightmare.

It's the first night since my father died that I've woken up with my heart pounding feverishly and my body fully bathed in cold sweat. It's still dark outside but I don't dare to go back to sleep, not after that horrifying nightmare. I make my way to the bathroom to wash my face and clear my head of those images.

The water feels cold and prickly on my skin and as soon as it touches my eyelids, I'm fully awake. I make my way to one of the sofas and curl up there because my bed is still wet from my cold sweat. I stopped having nightmares weeks after Blair ran away and never had them until now.

The words I had said in my nightmare shock me. I run my fingers on my face, as if Tamara's blood is still there. I can't shake the feeling off and it grants me one more trip to wash my face. Even as I sit back down on the sofa after having my face thoroughly scrubbed, I can't shake off the feeling that I'm stained with a little girl's blood. I remember everything so vividly. The way I kept on stabbing Tamara even after the life ran out of her sickens me.

_Once you're in the arena, everything changes, Bliss. People change, even when they think they won't. The Games do something to your mind until… you lose yourself. _I remember Blair's words from last night clearly, just as I had thought she would say – well, _write_.

I bury my face in my hands and let out a faint growl. Tamara's eyes were so hollow when the canon fired. They were lifeless and grey and I could feel nothing except bloodthirsty. The nightmare was so quick but it takes until morning for me to actually wake up.

Is that how I'm going to be in the arena? Am I going to turn out to be a bloodthirsty, ruthless killer? How many people am I going to kill, exactly? I let out a sound that's between a gasp and a cry before telling myself that it was just a nightmare. But even I know that Blair was right and the nightmare might be some sort of vision; people change in the arena.

So I stay curled up at the sofa, telling myself over and over again that it was nothing but a nightmare. I don't know how long I've been sitting here but just like the morning of the Reaping, the sunlight streaking from the windows becomes my alarm and I get up and take a shower. I let the water run cold, letting the iciness on my skin bring me back to reality.

I open the door even before Ginger could knock on it and head on to breakfast.

"So, I suppose both of you know that today you'll be super busy?" says Isabelle. "I'm going to train both of you separately, yes? Ginger will help you with presentation while I will train you for content. Then tomorrow, you'll be sent off to the hands of your stylists for the night's interviews."

Donovan and I respond by nodding.

"So, who wants to train with me first?"

I contemplate quickly. Which one do I dislike the most, Ginger or Isabelle? I make up my mind that I have more than a feeling of dislike to Isabelle. I'm _disgusted _by her and so I tell her that I choose to be with Ginger first.

Walking, sitting, posture, eye contact, hand gestures and smiling – that's what Ginger will be teaching me and I'm sure it'll be easy. How hard can it be to walk or smile or sit or whatever?

Apparently, in my case, _very_.

"Bliss, dear, now you just look frightening!" Ginger gasps.

I'm giving her my widest smile ever with my eyes bulged open. I drop it immediately and feel my cheeks getting sore. I've never thought smiling could be _this _hard or at least trying to find the perfect smile. I don't understand why I can't just use my natural smile but Ginger keeps saying that it looks too timid. She says she's looking for a "breath-taking, award-winning smile that can sweep anyone of their feet".

Talk about being impossible…

When I tell her that my cheeks are sore and so overused, she gives up and we move on to posture. This one I hate the most because apparently I slouch too much and whenever she tries straightening my back, it feels like she's about to snap the spinal cord. Her claw-like hands viciously pull my shoulders back and I resist the urge to shout all types of profanities to her.

"Ginger, if I promise I won't slouch during the interview, will you please stop trying to break my back?" I plead.

She sighs. "Alright, then, let's try walking."

I'm then put into a pair of high heels and a random dress with an unbelievably long train. I trip many times, but thankfully not breaking my ankles. I walk and walk around my room in circles for a full thirty minutes. Every time I try to stop, she barks at me to get going and I do so begrudgingly. After she feels satisfied, we move on to eye-contact.

"Bliss, you're _glaring _at me now!" she hisses.

"I'm not glaring!" I hiss back. "I'm just… staring with too much intensity."

"Why are you so tensed? Try and relax yourself!"

I scoff. "Sorry, but I find it hard to relax knowing that I'll be fighting for my life the day after tomorrow!"

"Bliss, _please_!" she snaps.

I immediately shut my mouth. I've never seen Ginger look so livid before. Slowly, she takes deep breaths as an act to calm herself and when she finally is, she puts a smile back on and says, "Shall we move on to sitting now?"

I do as she says obediently because I don't want to step on her nerves anymore. I finally realize she is, after all, doing her best to help me get sponsors. By lunchtime, I find myself feeling exhausted and my cheeks sore.

"How'd it go?" asks Donovan as he and I eat lunch together. Isabelle and Ginger are nowhere to be found.

I roll my eyes. "Terrible. That woman likes to criticize every bit of my flaws! What about you?"

"Isabelle says I should try to pull of the innocent, unfortunate fourteen-year-old character. When I asked her if I could be the tough-guy, you know what she said?" he asks. Without waiting for an answer, he says, "She says I look too vulnerable to be a tough-guy."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, my pride is definitely swollen."

After wishing each other good luck (God knows he'll be needing it with Ginger), I head back to my bedroom to find Isabelle there. She tells me to sit down and we stay in silence for awhile, her examining me from every angle.

"Bliss," she says, "I have a plan for you."

"Yeah…?"

"Try looking flirty," she suggests.

Oh, God, she's trying to turn me into her.

I hesitate. "Uh… Excuse me?"

"You know, try looking all girly and flirty."

I bite my lip. "No."

It's her turn now to say "excuse me".

I fidget uncomfortably in my seat. "I said, no. I have a plan for myself, actually."

All of it is crap. I don't have a plan for myself; in fact, I'm making all this up as I go. I just don't want to be the mirror of Isabelle when I go for the interviews or when I get to the arena. I'm not going to let her change me.

"And what is this plan of yours?"

"I'm going to be… _myself_. Now, quite honestly, I have no idea what type of person I am. Am I likeable? Am I friendly? Am I hostile? I have no clue, but one thing's for sure, the interviews are about getting to know the tribute better, and I want the whole Panem to know _me _and not some made-up person just to get sponsors."

I shock myself that I managed to keep my voice calm and restrain myself from sending insults to Isabelle flying from my mouth.

Isabelle stays silent for few moments. "I like it," she finally says. "It's not better than my plan, but I suppose it will win some hearts in Panem. Good job, Bliss. I think we might be done here."

As soon as she leaves, Blair comes creeping in. I sigh and let out everything on her, telling her every single detail that happened and every single insult that I wished I had said, because most of the insults were pretty good.

She pulls something out from a pocket and I take a look at it to see a pen and a notepad. Oh, good, she can finally respond to what I'm saying now.

_Bliss, you have to know all of this is to try to help you survive in the arena, _she writes.

I sigh. "I highly doubt that posture is important when I'm trying to kill someone or someone is trying to kill me!"

I wait as she scribbles on her notepad again. _Sponsors, Bliss, __**SPONSORS!**_

I raise an eyebrow towards her. "I know, Blair. I've been here long enough, heard enough lectures to know that sponsors are important. But why can't they still sponsor me as _me_? Why do they need to see someone else?"

Blair sighs. _They will see you as who you are, it's just that you need polishing. _

"Polishing?!" I scoff. As Blair pushes her pen to her notepad and begins to write, I say, "Forget it. Will you stay with me tonight?"

She writes, _I always do._

I skip supper that night and just stay in my sister's arms as she and I talk about the interviews. She's a lot better at helping me out than Ginger and Isabelle (by a mile better than Isabelle). After that, I just close my eyes and listen to her hum a lullaby she used to sing to me when I was little. If her tongue wasn't cut, I'm sure she'd be singing it beautifully like she used to.

-----

In the morning, it's Lysander's voice that I first hear when I wake up. I open my eyes and am shocked to find his whole team there with him. In my room. Waking me up. While I'm still in my pajamas. I don't know why but I hate the thought of them seeing me only in my nightdress.

I shower and sit in my robe as they get to work on me. Just as like the opening ceremonies, they do everything at once; Dill is curling my hair and doing some other perplex thing with it, Avara is layering my skin with make-up and Wilma is drawing the vines back on my arms. It's the same to me but they've promised that this will look completely different.

I look at my face in the mirror. Dill had made small braids in my hair and weaved it with small green ribbons. My arms have the same vines I had before but this time, the vines have small flowers shooting from it. My makeup, obviously, isn't the same as the face-paint I wore. I suppose I look okay, though I prefer less makeup. Then they put some sort of powder all over me to make me look glittery.

"Are you ready to wear your dress?" Lysander asks. I can hear the excitement in his voice. "You need to close your eyes, though. I want it to be a surprise. It's quite different from the dress you donned in the opening ceremonies."

I feel them as they slip the dress onto me. They're being extra careful, I can tell. There's a few adjusting, but I surprisingly don't feel anything. It feels like I'm still naked, like I haven't put on my dress yet, but they're pinning a few things here and there.

"Open your eyes now, Bliss," says Lysander.

I'm hesitant at first because I don't think I'm wearing anything. But when my eyes finally open, I see that I'm donning the loveliest, elegant dress I've ever seen. It's very different from my previous dress. For one thing, it weighs like a feather. The color is green, but not the soldier green Lysander used. It's more of a soft, light green like the color of meadows early in the morning. It's strapless but thank goodness it holds perfectly well on my figure and it falls just on my knees, revealing my legs. The design and cuts are so intricate, I'm sure a lot of effort has been put into this.

"What do you think?" Lysander asks.

I turn to look at him. "It's beautiful, Lysander. Thank you so much, again." Even surprising myself, I give him a big hug.

He chuckles. "I'm glad you like it. You look lovely, Bliss."

His team murmurs in agreement.

"Well, are you ready to go?" he asks, leading me to the door and placing his hand on the doorknob.

I take a deep breath. "Yes… I think."

-----

We're all crowded in the elevator, making our way to the front of the Training Centre. Donovan looks handsome in a dark olive-green suit with a brown vest inside. Asha and her team compliment me, or rather Lysander's work. Isabelle and Ginger say I look lovely.

We finally arrive and after quick last-minute words of advice, everyone leaves while Donovan and I take our place and sit under a big arch. My heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty when I see the size of the audience. I see the Gamemakers sitting in their balcony on the far right. Lysander and Asha are sitting in the front row, reserved for stylists only. I might just faint. I know Blair is watching, just like she said she did at the Opening Ceremonies, because even Avoxes have to watch this.

"Hey, are you okay?" Donovan whispers.

I nod my head faintly. "I'm not so used to large audiences."

"Yeah, me neither. Asha's going to kill me if she sees I'm sweating bullets. It'll ruin the makeup she's put on me – and I'm a guy anyways! Why do I even need makeup?"

I chuckle, releasing some of the nerves. "Don't worry. You just act like the innocent fourteen-year-old boy that you're supposed to."

He gives me a 'look' but then chuckles.

I place my hand on my stomach, feeling the butterflies again, but this time it's not because of Damien. It's because I've had no supper last night and didn't have anything to eat for breakfast. But the butterflies become hard to ignore, though, when I look at the other tributes and my eyes land on Damien. He looks dashing wearing a simple, clean, white suit.

As a distraction, I turn my eyes to Caeser Flickerman. He's been hosting the interviews ever since I can remember and it makes me wonder how old he is. He looks around his middle-age, but as I learn, makeup can cover a lot of things. This year, he's taken up to being clad in all yellow. Everything is yellow, his hair, his eyelids, his pupils, his lips, his suit, his fingernails – everything!

The interviews start but I'm not paying attention to any of them. I use my time to prepare, to calm myself, because right now my hands are shaking uncontrollably. Everything goes by too soon and I hear my name being called.

Not the time to go into hysterics, Bliss. Calm the hell down and try to act normal!

I make my way up to the stage, walking the way Ginger taught me and trying my hard not to slouch, though it's killing my shoulders. I shake Caeser's hand and am surprised to find his so soft like a little girl's.

"So, Bliss, you look lovely!" he says.

I nod my head. "Thanks. I have Lysander, my stylist, to thank."

"First of all, I need to know why you keep wearing that?" he points to Cadence's ribbon. "Is it a district token?"

I smile and shake my head. "Actually, my best friend, Cadence gave this to me. I guess it sort of symbolizes my promise to her, about coming back home."

"Oh, well that's sweet, now isn't it? Now, Bliss, were you aiming for a ten for your score?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I was hoping to scrape off a six or seven." I answer honestly.

"Let's go back to the Reaping. How did you feel about your name being called? What did your family say to you before you left?"

I gulp. Why did he have to ask that question? My mouth feels dry now. "I…I'm determined to get home. The only family I have left is my mother and I miss her so much right now. I love her so dearly."

"Oh, don't you have any siblings?"

I open my mouth to say that Blair is an Avox but I stop. Telling everyone that she's an Avox would be like saying goodbye to anyone who is willing to sponsor me. An Avox is frowned upon in every district. "My sister, Blair, I love her so much but… but… she…" I can't get myself to say the last word but I force myself anyways, "died".

I can hear gasps of sympathy in the audience. "Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss," says Caeser.

I hope Blair understands. She has to know I wouldn't have said that if I didn't have another choice. "Cadence, she's like a second sister to me and I love her as much."

"That's sweet. What do you think of the Capitol, Bliss?"

Oh, gee, good question Caeser. Immediately, my mouth fills with venom and all types of horrible words comes to mind. I swallow it all in and lie. "I think the Capitol is just amazing. There's a lot of…_light_. Actually, the shower tried to attack me. I don't know why, I must've pressed the wrong buttons and it literally attacked me. I swear, after that I thought I'd never have enough courage to shower again."

Caeser and the audience laugh. I didn't mean that as a joke, but I guess I'll take it. "Trust me, you're not alone. The one in my house probably has a plan to kill me! Anyways, are you ready for the Games tomorrow?"

My heart skips a beat and I find myself lying again. "I'm ready as ever."


	13. Close Contact

**Frostbite **

Chapter Thirteen – Close Contact

The buzzer goes off and Caeser squeezes my hand. "Well, that's all the time we have. Good luck Bliss Morgan, District 9!"

As I walk off the stage, the audience's applaud thunders in my ears and I find myself feeling quiet faint. Luckily, I reach my seat in time and collapse onto it. I give Donovan's hand a pat as he walks up to the stage. I watch as he plays the innocent boy flawlessly. I suspect that he's not even acting – he really _does _look like an innocent boy to me.

The buzzer goes off and the audience applauds him as he makes his way back to his seat. I can see the color is drained from his face and I give his hand a reassuring squeeze. His hands feel so cold and sweaty right now and I can feel his veins pumping blood in a fast pace.

"Are you okay, Donovan?" I whisper.

He nods his head and pats my hand. "Just a little… faint."

"I bet. You look like a ghost."

The tributes pass by one by one and all I end up feeling is sleepy. Even Donovan, who stays frozen for about fifteen minutes, starts yawning. Finally, after the District 12 boy finishes (noting the absence of the girl tribute) we all stand up for the anthem. Donovan and I rush back to the Training Centre lobby and wait for our group.

I'm sleepy and starting to get impatient. "Donovan, tell them I'm heading up first. I'm really tired."

I don't wait for an answer. I rush into an empty elevator and press the button '9'. As soon as the doors slide close, it opens back up and Damien comes in. My heart doesn't beat feverishly now – instead, it just freezes. He pushes the button '2' and the doors slide close.

I'm in an elevator alone with Damien Hunters.

Breathe, Bliss, breathe.

He turns around to face me. "Hey, good job on the interview."

I take a step back. "Th-thanks. You were pretty good, too."

He takes a step forward. "Really? I didn't think you were watching. I saw you looking at the floor. I guess I'm that boring, huh?"

I take another step back and shake my head. "Just because I wasn't watching, it doesn't mean I didn't hear what you said. I don't need to listen with my eyes, you know?"

He smirks and takes another step forward. "I get the point."

I try taking another step back but I hit the wall behind me and I'm trapped. "So… uh…"

He takes two steps forward to me, _almost _closing our distance. "You look really lovely tonight, Bliss."

Okay, forget about my heart freezing, it's definitely beating like a horse now. He's so close to me, I know he can hear it. Hell, I think he can actually _feel _it. "Yeah. Uh… thanks. You look… good, tonight."

He doesn't say anything except lean forward to me. Our faces are close enough to –

_Ting!_

The elevator bell rings and the doors slide open. He immediately steps back from me and heads for the door. With a smirk, he says, "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then, Bliss? Oh, and, there's nothing like summer."

He steps out and the doors close behind him. I feel like I've just finished running three miles. With my back still glued to the wall, I slide to the floor. What was he doing? What was he _thinking_? What would happen if the elevator hadn't reached his floor yet? I know it's some sort of plan… but is it? I furrow my eyebrows as I wonder what he meant by that last sentence. It seems familiar to me, but I'm unsure.

If I was ever feeling sleepy, it's all gone and I'm definitely feeling alert now. The doors slide open at my floor and I make my way, zombie-like, back to my room. Blair is waiting for me at the door and I just walk past her, still in my zombie-state, to my bed. I sit down and look at her.

"I think I might just die," I say, my voice cracking.

She rushes to me, sits beside me and wrap her arm her around me. Her eyes show a clear message; _what happened_?

I blurt everything out to her without thinking first. I tell her what happened on the first day of training when Damien first spoke to me to the elevator incident. It was supposed to be my little secret, but I know I can trust Blair, who is now staring at me in disbelief as I finish my story.

She scribbles on her notepad. _Don't you think this is some type of plan?_

I sigh and stand up. "I know, I know! Did you think I haven't thought of that? I thought it was some plan to make every girl tribute fall for him so they won't have the heart to hurt him in the arena but… why am I the only one?"

_Maybe because of your 10? He's the boy who got the 8, right? _Blair replies.

"Yes, he's the boy with the 8 but I doubt it's because of that. He started talking to me _before _the private-trainings." There's a knock on the door and I jump. I turn to Blair and give her an apologetic look. "I have to go to dinner and watch the recap. I'll be back."

She writes, _I'll always be waiting._

I smile at her and walk out. Ginger brings me to the dining room and I eat. That's when I realize that behind the sleepiness and the shock; I'm actually really, really starving! After that, we head to the sitting room to watch the recap. In all honesty, I think mine was boring and forgettable. The only thing that caught the audience's attention was when I told them of my sister's so-called death, and even that, I know, is forgettable.

I make my way back to my room after that. Blair, true to her word, is still sitting on my bed, writing. When I walk up to her, she hands me the notepad.

_Here's what I think. Maybe Damien isn't plotting anything at all, maybe he actually does this to you because he has feelings for you. I think he's actually desperately falling for you and what happened in the elevator is that he tried to make you see how he actually feels. If the elevator hadn't reached his floor yet, he'd probably kiss you and I bet you'd be falling for him, too._

I place my hands on my hips and roll my eyes. "You're such a hopeless romantic, Blair!" I say, giving her the notepad and making my way to the closet-device. "Not everything is a love story, you know?"

I finish changing and make my way back to the bed.

_Oh, you're so pessimistic! Why can't there be a love story in the Hunger Games? I'm telling you, one day or another, history is going to be made in the Games. _

"Blair, I highly doubt he's in love with me. Plus, this is the _Hunger Games! _There's nothing sweet and romantic about it and tomorrow when I get ready to go into the arena I-"

I stop mid-sentence as it finally dawns on me. Tonight is the last night of my freedom. Tomorrow, I'm going to be in danger when I'm put into the arena. Tonight is the last night for me to be with Blair, and my heart breaks at that thought. I hug Blair but she doesn't seem surprised at this suddenness. She hugs me back and tucks me into bed like she always did when I was young.

I can feel the tears sting my eyes. I don't care if I cry now. If anything, _this _should be the perfect time for me to cry. "Blair, I don't want to go."

She wipes the tears from my cheek. There are tears in her own eyes but she doesn't bother with them.

"I love you so, so much and I never want to lose you. I wish I can be with you forever."

Her tears fall down her cheek to her chin. She mouths the words "I love you" back to me. She slowly writes on her notepad, _I have so much faith in you. I know you'll be strong. For me, for mom and dad._

More tears come flooding down from my eyes and I clutch her hand like a lifeline. This will probably be the last time I see Blair. "Please, don't go, don't go. I need you here. Please, stay."

She flips through the notepad and shows me the message she wrote yesterday. _I always do._

"I love you so much, Blair." I whisper those words over and over again as Blair hums her lullaby and strokes my hair. I whisper them as I fall asleep and I know even when I'm sleeping, I'm still whispering them. As slumber takes over me, I hold on to Blair's hand tighter and then let myself be taken away.


End file.
